Winner of Panhellenic Games 2022 - Isthmian Games 

The Moiraean Hippocampus by JenJosie

*

The Aegean, 1936

It wasn't like Nigel to feel seasick. Granted, he was sick of the sea, of its enigmatic, flat, infuriating blueness, but that wasn't the same thing. Yet today, here he was with Charles, cruising off the shores of the Peloponnese, feeling an uncharacteristic growing knot in the pit of his belly. I'm doing this for her, he told himself.

"What d'ya say, chap?" Charles said, slapping him on the back. "Today's going to be the day, isn't it? I can feel it." The wind ruffled his unkempt hair.

Nigel had attached himself to Charles two years ago at the university simply because he believed that Charles's research could lead him to the mythical beast that he'd sought for so long. Yes, he was just using Charles at first, but he'd come in time to think of this philosophical academic as a friend.

They cruised around the rocky outcrop that could barely be called an island, Charles scanning the jagged overhangs with his binoculars, for the symbols he was certain they would find. Nigel's eyes were focused on the water. It seemed unnaturally clear, he thought, as the sunlight glinted off the shifting surface. Would today finally be the day?

"Ha!" Charles shouted. He handed Nigel the binoculars as he edged the boat closer. Yes, there carved into the rock, were three geometric seahorses, in the style of the ancients.

----

The salt-water pool shimmered and flickered in the sunlight from the natural openings in the rock ceiling. The tide was uncharacteristically low, allowing the two young men to leave their boat and walk along the narrow passageway, the entrance marked by the three seahorses, that led to the interior of this isolated sea-cave.

"Holy," Charles breathed, gazing at the limestone walls covered in ancient carvings, and Nigel wasn't sure if his friend was making an exclamation of wonder, or commenting on the supposed sacredness of this ancient lost place.

Finding this hidden temple of the Moiraean Hippocampus had been Charles's ardent dream.

Nigel watched Charles peruse the chamber with childlike joy, and he thought of how much he'd enjoyed following Charles in his academic adventures these past couple years—the dig at Syros , the run-in with those snakes at that cave-tomb in Pylos, the time they'd had to weather a violent storm all night in the university museum among the watchful statues and the smell of old books. Nigel felt guilty because, at times like those, he would momentarily forget his own singular purpose—to avenge his sister's death.

While Charles examined the carvings, Kodak in hand, Nigel sat on the smooth rock at the edge of the shimmering pool. He stared into the cerulean blue water, thinking how it must be connected by an underwater umbilicus to the vast sea outside. So much expanse of ocean in which his enemy could hide.

The sunlight glinting off the shifting surface made him think of the silver scales of the mermaid in his dream last night, just before the horrid beast wrapped its tail around her neck and dragged her away from him. He shuddered as he recalled it, even though he'd dreamt it many times before.

And like many times before, he thought about his sister. How such a natural swimmer could drown like that. People said it was an unfortunate accident, of course, a senseless tragedy—but he knew what he had seen as he stood there on the beach, fifteen years old and screaming. He had seen the cerulean-scaled creature pull his sister beneath the waves.

He looked up to see Charles intent on studying some ancient image on the ancient walls of this ancient place. Now that Charles had found his holy grail, Nigel was eager to finish his own quest and, for the first time, he imagined what the rest of his life, his future, might look like. And who he wanted it to include.

Charles turned then, as if he sensed someone was thinking about him, and smiled. If he had tenderer feelings for his friend, Charles hadn't yet admitted them.

"Come look at this, will you?" he said, lightly brushing his hand over the wall. Nigel joined him. Carved into the stone was a scene that chilled him despite the Mediterranean heat. A group of people bowed, on their knees—supplicants or worshippers perhaps—seashells in hand. On the ground before them was a human figure, wrapped like a mummy, a crown upon its head. And, the focus of the image, a seahorse-like creature, larger than the men, rising out of a pool of water, its scaled tail wrapped around an open-mouthed human figure.

"Ghastly," Nigel said, taking a step back. But he recognized this creature and his heart raced. This was the monster he was seeking! The monster he would kill. "Utterly monstrous," he said aloud.

"Oh, I don't know," Charles said. "The gods of one era become the monsters of the next."

Nigel frowned, but Charles went on. "I mean, look here, this is an honor." He pointed to the mummy-like figure. "Only the most devout followers of the Moiraean Hippocampus got a special funeral like this, buried at sea with the god there himself to usher them to the other side." He spoke with fervent admiration for the ancient ways—an unabashed Classical scholar through and through.

"Then what about this guy?" Nigel said, pointing to the man locked in the Hippocampus's deadly embrace.

Charles chuckled a little. "An offering? Collateral damage?" He shrugged. "The gods weren't especially kind."

"No, they certainly are not," Nigel replied quietly. Now that he was certain he'd found the Hippocampus's lair, he wondered if he'd made a mistake—he was willing to risk his own life to avenge his sister, to kill the Hippocampus, but he wasn't sure he was willing to allow anyone else to be "collateral damage"—least of all Charles. Maybe they should go away from here. Nigel could come back alone and finish the beast—one on one, a duel to the death, like Herakles and the lion.

Charles took his friend's solemn attitude for his usual pensiveness. "Look what we have here," he said to himself, pulling down a large conch shell from an alcove above the carving. Without a thought, he lifted it to his mouth and blew.

The sound reverberated in the cave.

The splash shocked both the young men, as a huge blue-plated tail crashed out of the pool. It flailed about the chamber, knocking Charles down, and spraying salt water all over them like rain, before disappearing again into the water.

Nigel was breathing heavily. "Are you all right?"

But Charles was already getting to his feet. "What in hell was that? I can't—"

"That," Nigel yelled, with uncharacteristic fire in his eyes, "is the monster that killed my sister!" Then he picked up the dropped conch shell and he ran.

----

Nigel was fast, already on the boat and preparing to set off by the time Charles reached the beach. He raced across the sand, splashed through the shallows and clambered into the boat before Nigel could stop him. "Jesus, Nige, what's gotten into you?" he asked. "Were you just going to leave me?"

Nigel had no time to think. He steered the boat into open water. But the accusation in Charles's voice stung. "No, of course not!" he said. "I'd've come back for you after I killed it."

"Kill it? Are you crazy?"

Nigel rummaged around for the fishing spears. Charles grabbed his shoulders. "Nige, what are you talking about? What sister? And what in bloody hell was that thing?"

Nigel looked at him, wild-eyed. How could Charles not realize it was the mythical Hippocampus itself? "You would've been safer on land," he said. But he couldn't turn back now. He was so close. He might lose the creature. "Promise me you'll just stay back."

Charles didn't have time to answer—in truth, he didn't know what to say—because suddenly Nigel brought up the ancient conch shell and blew. The sound spread through the air around them and settled into the sparkling blue water. There was no going back now.

The two men held their breath, silent.

For a moment, only a few bubbles disturbed the sea. Then suddenly, with a terrific splash, the creature thrust half its body above the surface. Water cascaded from its bony blue plates. Its head wasn't unlike that of a seahorse, except for the eyes. The eyes were more... mammalian, more knowing.

Nigel felt like time froze as he stared into the indigo eye of his sister's killer. The thing that had dragged her into the ocean while he stood by, helpless. He wasn't that helpless fifteen year old boy any longer.

Charles gasped and scrambled back in horror, breaking the spell, and time rushed forward.

Nigel raised the spear and thrust. The beast was agile, much more so than any actual seahorse. Its tail whipped out of the sea and grabbed the spear, pulling Nigel off balance. He let go of the spear, for fear of being pulled off the boat and watched as the creature tossed it carelessly into the water.

But Nigel was prepared and grabbed another long spear. He felt Charles's hand on his arm. "What are you doing?" Charles shouted, though his voice sounded far away. "Let's get out of here!"

Nigel pulled away and braced himself for his next attack, but that momentary hesitation

had given the monster time to dive beneath the waves. Nigel cursed and turned on Charles. "No, no, no, I was so close!" he wailed.

But as he said it, he felt the rocking of the sea beneath them. The blue tail smashed over the side with the violence of a tempest, crashing into Charles and knocking his head against the tiny cabin. Nigel sprang forward to grab hold of his friend. But though a gash across his forehead was bleeding, Charles was all right.

Thank God, Nigel thought, as the Hippocampus's tail snaked around his body, picking him up as easily as a child's plaything, and pulled him over the side into the cerulean water.

He realized in that terrifying moment that he'd been a fool to go after the Hippocampus, devoting himself to hunting it down, for so long, at all costs. His sister was gone. Charles was still here.

And he was holding out his hand to Nigel, frantically trying to reach him.

Nigel struggled, reaching upward to Charles, but he felt the tail tighten around him. He saw Charles, through a sunlit haze, recede from him as the Hippocampus pulled him under.

But the last thing Nigel saw wasn't that image of Charles, reaching out to him.

As he stopped struggling and his lungs filled with water, he saw his sister, smiling, auburn hair flowing around her head, her hand outstretched to him, her cerulean scales sparkling in the growing darkness.