Tides of Olympus

by Eliza Raine

  ‘Yield!’ he yelled.

  Albion laughed, reaching up and grabbing for Eryx. He caught his shirt collar and pulled, dragging him over his shoulder and slamming him hard onto the deck in front of him. A tightness spread across Eryx’s chest as he landed and he coughed. The pain lessened and he rolled to his feet, immediately ducking again as Albion stepped towards him with a well-aimed elbow. He threw his own elbow out as he darted past Albion, landing his blow in the back of the giant’s knee and causing him to shout as he stumbled forward. He wheeled around and ran up Albion’s flabby back, this time wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing. Albion pulled at his arms, his huge, grimy fingers trying to dig between Eryx’s arms and his own skin, but Eryx held on, trying to squeeze harder. Albion pushed himself back onto both feet, took a choking breath – and Eryx realised just in time what he was about to do. The giant began to fall backwards, and Eryx let go, landing awkwardly and scrabbling out of the way just before Albion’s considerable weight crashed into the deck. The sound of wood splintering accompanied the giant’s grunt.

  ‘Enough!’ roared Antaeus. ‘I said fight, not destroy my ship!’ His face was red as he stomped across the deck towards them. ‘Albion, get this fixed, now!’ Eryx leaned forward, offering his hand to Albion and trying not to laugh as the giant rolled around in the dent he’d made in the deck. Albion took it and Eryx heaved, helping him struggle to his feet. Pain gripped his chest again but he caught himself before he grimaced.

  ‘Eryx, you’re clearly fit. And having a smaller crew member may be a benefit. Go and get ready.’ Antaeus didn’t look at him as he spoke, still glaring at the broken wooden planks of the deck, so he missed Eryx’s beaming grin.

  4

  Hercules stared out over the broad expanse of snow-covered land as the Hybris glided low over the surface of Capricorn. They were heading towards a bright white beacon of light shooting up from the ground. He had seen four beams rising from the surface as they had approached, but this one matched the harsh white light glowing from the sphere he was tossing from hand to hand.

  ‘We’ll reach the beam in ten minutes, Captain,’ the minotaur said from the navigation wheel. He didn’t answer.

  Hercules was well practised at containing his often-simmering temper. In fact, sometimes anger, ambition and excitement blurred together for him, melding into a constant stream of energy pushing him forward, fuelling his achievements. Today, though, he knew he was angry. Evadne had a made a fool of him and cost him the Trial on Sagittarius. Worse still, Lyssa had won.

  His hand clenched hard around the cold metal key. Evadne had given up. She had yielded. He knew he would have made it through the metal spikes and been victorious, but she had submitted for both of them. Without even knowing if it would cost them their lives. Artemis had said those who were worthy would be rescued.

  A tiny part of him whispered unnervingly: Worthy in whose eyes? Many would leave you to die. But he crushed the thought immediately, refocusing on his blue-haired gunner. She would pay the price for her actions; would have done already if she hadn’t been stolen away by the bloody gods themselves. The memory of the fear on her face when they had appeared back on the deck of the Hybris, when he had lifted her by the neck and let her see the rage within him, sent a shiver of pent-up energy through him. Let her fear of him grow in that cage. Let the apprehension of her impending punishment war with her need to be rescued by him. A small smile tugged at his lips. He would do what he could to make sure she was desperate to see him, as long as it didn’t cost him the win.

  5

  The Alastor slowed as they soared over the source of the purple beam of light and Lyssa’s mouth fell open slightly as she leaned over the railings. The light was shooting from the tallest spire of a castle made from shining ice, glittering like crystal. The castle crested a tall sheer peak that had been flattened at the top to accommodate the structure’s many buildings, all joined together with elaborate walkways and tunnels. Spires of varying heights protruded from every building but were most concentrated in the central structure.

  ‘Where should we moor?’ Epizon asked, beside her. She focused on the ship, willing the Alastor to slow and descend, circling the peak.

  ‘I think that’s a dock.’ She pointed to an outbuilding some way from the castle, at the edge of the flat peak. Epizon nodded.

  ‘I’ll check Phyleus is ready,’ he said.

  Lyssa eased the ship to a stop by the dock, as tight to the mountain as she could. As they got close, she realised that the mountain itself was made from ice, not polished and shiny like the buildings on top, but rough and coarse-looking. She wondered what happened to the mountain, and the castle, in summer. Maybe it didn’t exist at all. She’d been to Capricorn once before, but to the south of the island, and in spring. It was nothing like this. The sparkling sky above them was darker than usual, deep blue in colour, with sheets of sparkling grey corkscrewing across her vision. A cold wind whistled gently through the solar sails of the Alastor and she let go of the railing to pull her heavy leather cloak tighter around herself.

  ‘Bet you’re glad you kept me on board now,’ Phyleus said. She turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. ‘You know who paid for that cloak?’ he said, nodding at it. She scowled and turned away. He was right, though. They’d had no cold-weather provisions, and no hope of getting any, until he had bought his way onto the ship. She sniffed loudly, then heard clopping on the wooden deck.

  ‘Good luck, Captain. I wish I could help,’ Nestor said as she approached.

  ‘Thank you. You’ll be with us on the next one, I promise.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Len trotted up next to her, ducking and pulling a face as her tail flicked next to him.

  ‘Bring him back quickly, Cap,’ he said. Lyssa gave him a tight smile.

  ‘We will. Are we ready?’

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ Epizon’s voice rang out over Phyleus’s.

  ‘Good. Let’s go get Abderos,’ she said, and vaulted over the railing onto the pier below. Her left boot slipped as she landed, her heart leaping into her mouth and her arms shooting out on instinct, flailing for purchase. Strong hands gripped her from behind as her foot came back down on the icy surface. ‘Thanks,’ she gasped, taking a gulping breath.

  ‘No problem,’ Phyleus muttered. She whirled around, almost falling again at the sound of his voice. She had thought it was Epizon who had caught her.

  Phyleus grinned broadly as he saw her surprise. She glared at him a moment, then faced the castle, hoping her pink cheeks could be blamed on the cold.

  ‘Do we go to the tallest spire? To where the light is?’ Epizon asked.

  ‘I guess so,’ she said and began to walk, carefully, towards the castle.

  They had barely reached the towering archway at the base of the castle walls when a flicker of purple caught Lyssa’s eye. She paused, looking for the streak of light that had crossed her peripheral vision.

  ‘What…’ started Phyleus, then he spun around on the spot.

  ‘Did you see it?’ she asked.

  ‘Purple light,’ he said, staring intently around the empty castle grounds.

  ‘There!’ said Epizon. A slither of purple light was hovering to their right, away from the castle building. She stepped towards it and it blurred, reappearing a few feet further away.

  ‘Are we supposed to follow it?’ Phyleus sounded wary.

  ‘We followed the light all the way to Capricorn. No point not trusting it now,’ she said, and stepped deliberately after it.

  ‘You were saying?’ Phyleus commented a few minutes later, as they watched the light reach the brink of the peak, then disappear over the edge. When none of them moved any closer, the light reappeared and performed the same stunt, flickering in the eerily quiet twilight.

  ‘If Apollo wants us to go over, then we go over,’ Lyssa said, squaring her shoulders and pulling down the hood that covered her red curls.

  ‘What? Are you crazy?’ Phyleus stomped to the edge of
the mountain, then leaned out carefully. ‘It’s pretty much a sheer drop,’ he said, shaking his head. The purple light shimmered into existence beside him, then dived off the edge. Lyssa looked at Epizon and raised her eyebrows in silent question.

  ‘If that’s what we’ve got to do, then that’s what we do,’ he said calmly, then pulled the pack off his shoulder and started rummaging. He waved Phyleus over to him. ‘Here,’ he said, and handed him two metal handles the size of a fist, covered in curved hooks. ‘Claws. They’ll help grip the ice.’

  Phyleus took them mutely, looking between Lyssa and her huge first mate. ‘You’re serious?’ he checked as she got her own claws out of her deep cloak pockets and stepped up to the edge of the mountain. She didn’t look down, instead turning her back to the precipice and dropping to her knees. ‘I don’t know why I’m surprised,’ Phyleus muttered, his voice carrying on the cold breeze.

  ‘Phyleus, you know what I’m going to say,’ she called. ‘If you don’t like it…’ She paused as she pushed the claw in her right hand into the ice and tugged at it experimentally. It held.

  ‘Go back to the ship,’ Phyleus answered in a high-pitched imitation of her voice.

  ‘Exactly.’ She took a deep breath and eased herself backwards off the precipice. She gasped at the moment of weightlessness as her feet found no purchase on the surface below her. But her strong arms held fast on the claws and the ice was rough enough for her boots to grip eventually and take some of her weight. Adrenaline hummed through her body and she tuned out everything around her, focusing on nothing but removing one claw at a time from the ice and making steady progress down the vertical mountain. Every now and then she called out one of the others’ names, relief buoying her when she heard Epizon’s measured response or Phyleus’s strained one. Epizon was strong enough to climb using just his arms and the claws, so she had little worry for him, but though Phyleus was fit, his strength was no match for either of them. On some level she knew it was unfair that he had been through every Trial so far, but she couldn’t help feeling like he deserved it. He hadn’t earned his place on the Alastor, so he could damn well risk his life for it now.

  Her anger made her jab the claw in her left hand too hard into the ice and a splintering crack formed, creeping across the craggy surface. She drew a breath, reminding herself she needed to concentrate, and pushed Phyleus out of her head.

  6

  ‘Psyche, I don’t think I can do it,’ Hedone murmured, staring at the streak of red light that was launching itself off the edge of the mountain for the twentieth time.

  ‘Of course you can. Bellerephon is already most of the way down!’ Psyche’s exasperated tone cut through Hedone’s apprehension. Her desire to hold her team up and give Hercules his best chance of winning was warring with her increasing desire to impress the fierce woman before her. ‘If you can’t do it, then you need to go back. If that boar gets to Theseus…’ Fire flashed in Psyche’s eyes and guilt forced Hedone forward, nearer to the brink.

  ‘It’s just…’ She peered over the edge, very real fear skittering through her. ‘It’s just such a long way down. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough.’

  ‘You are strong enough. And you have ice claws on your hands and your feet.’ Psyche gestured to her boots, covered with metal studs that bit into the snow. ‘Just follow me, and you’ll be fine.’ Psyche held her gaze until she nodded. ‘Crouch, backwards,’ she said and demonstrated. Hedone copied her, turning her back nervously to the precipice and dropping quickly to her knees. ‘Good. Now dig in the claws and don’t look down.’ Hedone glanced sideways at Psyche, watched her push the metal spiked gloves into the ice and did the same. The leather was thick enough to keep out the cold, and when she wiggled her hand the gloves didn’t move. Taking a long breath she shuffled backwards, gasping as she felt her feet move out over nothingness.

  ‘That’s good. As soon as your knees are over, kick your toes into the ice,’ called Psyche.

  ‘Right,’ she mumbled back, her mouth dry. She did as she was told, only moving her hands a few inches at a time as she lowered herself over the edge.

  ‘There you go,’ said Psyche. Hedone looked to her left, where Psyche was perched only a few feet away, her claws deep in the ice. ‘Now, just move down. Concentrate, and before you know it, you’ll be on the ground.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, facing the mountain and closing her eyes a moment. She was vertical, the claws holding her against a sheet of ice a hundred feet above the ground. She felt sick. What was she doing? She dragged the image of Hercules’s face to the forefront of her mind, picturing the lines of his smile, the promise in his eyes. She was doing this for him. She was proving herself to him. She couldn’t sit around on the Virtus, unable to help or hinder.

  She pulled her right hand away from the ice, the claw coming loose, her body wobbling and her breath catching. Panic threatened to overcome her but her arm moved instinctively, shoving hard into the ice again lower down. Instantly she felt sturdier and the vibration in her legs lessened. She pulled her left hand out, not wanting to give the panic a chance to take hold. As soon as she had it firmly back in the ice, she moved her right leg. One by one, she moved her limbs: right hand, left hand, right foot, left foot. Years stuck meditating in a temple had left her good at counting and breathing, emptying her mind of anything else. Even the cold faded from her awareness as she moved down the face of the mountain.

  She was so surprised when her foot hit the ground that she cried out.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Bellerephon was there, reaching for her as she dared to look over her shoulder. After focusing on the bright ice for so long, her eyes streamed as she looked around. She had made it. Relief washed over her as her second foot connected with the solid earth through crunching snow. There was a soft thud as Psyche jumped the last few inches and landed beside her. She was beaming. It was the first proper smile Hedone thought she had ever given her.

  ‘Well done,’ she said and Hedone couldn’t help smiling back. She’d done it. And got there before Psyche! ‘Keep the claws on your boots, there’s likely to be more ice terrain,’ she said, and scanned their surroundings.

  Hedone followed her gaze. She realised, belatedly, that snow was falling softly, catching in her dark hair, and she pulled up the deep hood of her fur cloak. The uneven ground was already covered in the white powder and though less light filtered down to them, it glistened off the reflective surface. Curving bare rocks jutted out of the ground regularly, looking like giant teeth. It was hard to make out what was in the distance as the snow seemed to swirl more thickly, but it looked fairly flat. The streak of red light was hovering ahead of them, zipping off a few feet, then returning, clearly wanting them to follow.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Psyche, pulling up her hood.

  7

  It was colder down on the frozen earth. Lyssa huddled inside her cloak, trying to disappear further into it as they crossed the snowy expanse. The wind was still gentle save for the small flurries that crossed their path periodically, smattering them in cold powder. It was quiet, the only sound the crunching of their boots on the snow, and they had seen nothing living as they followed the purple light. To either side of them and ahead there was just more white. Lyssa had seen snow before, atop mountains on Leo, but never in this quantity and never seemingly endless.

  ‘Do you think the others have an identical route to the middle?’ asked Phyleus. Lyssa thought about it. It would be fairest if so. Which meant nothing. The gods were far from fair. She shoved away the image of her mother that began to flicker in her mind.

  ‘Maybe. Who knows?’

  ‘I think it’s likely. Hercules only has one other crew member. Hopefully that will hinder him,’ Epizon said, his voice carrying on the wind.

  ‘Would that mean Evadne dies?’ asked Phyleus quietly. Lyssa looked sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Twelve deadly Trials.’

  ‘Not a nice way to g
o, being eaten by a giant boar,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Huh,’ Lyssa grunted. Evadne had made a choice when she joined that maniac on the Hybris. She would have known the risks, known who Hercules was. If anyone from that ship got torn apart by a wild boar Lyssa would struggle to feel sorrow.

  ‘There’s a lake ahead,’ said Epizon, slowing slightly.

  ‘More ice,’ groaned Phyleus. Ten feet ahead of them the uneven snowy ground they’d been walking on gave way to a glittering frozen lake, seeming to create more light. It stretched on and on, its far bank barely visible in the distance.

  ‘Do you think we can walk on it?’ asked Lyssa, casting a nervous glance at Epizon. He weighed at least twice what she and Phyleus did.

  ‘We’d better hope so. I can’t see a way around.’ Epizon was looking from right to left but the polished lake surface shone as far as they could see. The purple light bounced ahead of them, over the lake, and paused, waiting for them to catch up.

  Phyleus put his foot out first, testing the ice. It was crystal clear and sparkled like glass. He pushed his toe against it, then eased the rest of his foot down. He looked at them both.

  ‘Feels good,’ he said. Epizon reached out, gripping Phyleus’s shoulder, ready to pull him back, as he lifted his other leg off the ground and put his whole weight on the frozen surface. When nothing happened, Phyleus grinned. ‘Let’s go,’ he said and turned to start walking.