Tides of Olympus

by Eliza Raine

‘Probably not as much as you,’ Epizon chuckled.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lyssa,’ Epizon said, shifting on the crate to face her. She frowned apprehensively at his use of her name. ‘It’s OK if you like him. You are allowed to, you know.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said, scowling and turning back to Tenebrae. The creature’s intense green eyes stared back.

  ‘Phyleus is strong; stronger than he looks if the last few Trials are anything to go by. He’s not afraid of you, and I don’t believe he has any agenda.’

  ‘You don’t believe anyone has any agenda,’ she shot back. ‘He told me today that he has things he wants to keep secret.’

  ‘Everybody has things they want to keep secret,’ Epizon said gently. Lyssa huffed.

  ‘Len doesn’t. It would be a gift if that satyr kept more to himself,’ she muttered.

  Epizon laughed.

  ‘Nestor doesn’t think we should be celebrating,’ Lyssa said, changing the subject.

  ‘She’s a warrior,’ Epizon said, his voice full of admiration. ‘They don’t celebrate until the battle is won.’

  ‘Hmm. Did you see her with those cyclopes? Gods, she can fight.’

  ‘I know. Hopefully she can make a difference in the next Trial.’ Lyssa swung her legs against the crate. ‘Where do you think the next one will be? We still have three forbidden realms to go.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Epizon shrugged. ‘Hopefully it’s something physical.’

  Lyssa nodded. ‘Hercules is good at the physical ones too,’ she said quietly.

  ‘We’re better. And now we have three fighters. He’s only one man.’

  Lyssa looked at Epizon, drawing his words into her memory, to call on when she needed them. ‘He’s only one man,’ she repeated.

  They lapsed into silence again. Lyssa’s thoughts slipped quickly back to laughing brown eyes and a warm, cheeky grin. ‘Epizon,’ she said.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You said Phyleus isn’t afraid of me. Does that mean other men are?’

  ‘No. I just meant…’ he paused, clearly looking for the right words. ‘Most men who see your temper either want to challenge you or run away from you. I think Phyleus respects who you are.’

  Lyssa pulled a face. ‘He has a funny way of showing it. I can’t even get him to call me captain, except sarcastically.’

  Epizon turned to face her, his eyes serious. ‘Lyssa, I saw the longboat sail turn black in the race on Sagittarius.’ Lyssa stiffened, her stomach flipping with anxiety. She didn’t want to talk about this. ‘If he hadn’t knocked you from the mast… Do you remember it? What the Rage felt like?’

  ‘Not really,’ she lied, chewing her lip and looking away from him.

  ‘You must be careful. It’s the same power that flows through Hercules. You know better than anybody that power corrupts.’

  She recalled the feeling of invincibility, the freedom, the unending surge of power, and shuddered.

  ‘What’s that got to do with Phyleus?’ she asked, desperate to talk about anything but her Rage.

  ‘Things might have ended very differently if he wasn’t there.’

  ‘You’d have done the same,’ she said.

  ‘I know, but I won’t always be by your side, not like a lover would be.’

  Lyssa gave a strangled cough at the word lover and felt her face burn. It was like talking to a family member about sex.

  ‘I don’t think Phyleus bought his way onto the Alastor to be my lover,’ she said, refusing to look at Epizon. ‘I think immortality had something to do with it.’

  ‘Right. So that kiss was just about poisoned wine, was it?’ Epizon teased.

  ‘Why are all these damn Trials shown to everybody?’ she snapped. But her stomach flipped again as she thought of those soft, full lips.

  3

  Hedone looked over her shoulder warily as she unhooked the longboat from its tether at the prow of the Virtus. If she was caught taking the little boat she would tell them that she was going to fly over the other kingdoms of Taurus, to see the tree-houses. It would be easier if nobody knew she’d gone anywhere, though. She willed her mind into the longboat and it floated gently away from the ship. No doubt Hercules was still moored somewhere nearby, but it might take a her a little while to find him.

  The Alastor was a small shape in the distance, its sails gleaming against the teal-and-purple sky. It was unlikely he would be anywhere near that ship. She guided the boat in the opposite direction and picked up speed. What if he had decided to guess where the next Trial would be, instead of heeding Dionysus’s instructions to stay nearby until tomorrow? Her breath caught and her heart clenched at the thought. She had to see him. Simply had to.

  She zigzagged through the pastel clouds over Taurus and thought she may actually burst when she finally saw a ship with shining metal cladding hovering in the distance. She sped towards it, letting out a massive sigh of relief when she got close enough to see Hybris etched on the side of the Whirlwind. She was finally going to see him.

  As her little boat approached the massive warship she steered around to the huge glass windows under the quarterdeck. He had told her about the full-length glass wall in his bedroom when he had visited her own quarters. A thrill ran through her when she thought about the bed Hercules slept in every night, and about sharing that bed with him. She prayed that he was in his rooms as she drew level with the beautiful windows.

  She edged the boat as close to the glass as she could and peered in. The rooms were as lavish as she had thought they would be, with rich mahogany walls and red material draping and softening all the furniture, including the enormous bed. She couldn’t see Hercules but there were large double doors at the back, behind the bed. Hopefully he was in one of those adjoining rooms. She knocked tentatively on the window. Nothing happened and with her heart hammering she tried again, louder.

  Movement in the dark room beyond caught her eye and she held her breath. Please, please, please be Hercules, not Evadne. The thought of the blue-haired girl made a jealous anger prick at Hedone. She wasn’t naive enough to think that Hercules wasn’t sharing his bed in her absence, but she didn’t want to see evidence of the fact first-hand.

  The figure that filled the doorway was far too big to be Evadne, though, and desire completely overcame Hedone as Hercules stepped into the light of the windows. His eyes widened then shone as he saw her through the glass. He was at the glass in a heartbeat, pulling on a small lever, then pushing the window wide open.

  ‘Hedone,’ he breathed. ‘You’re here.’ There was wonder in his voice and Hedone practically threw herself from the tiny longboat into his massive arms. No more words passed between them as he carried her to his bed and they sank down into the sheets together.

  ‘So, this is Ati?’ Hedone carefully stroked one hand over the cat’s hairless head as she jumped up on the bed. She folded her legs underneath herself, closed her eyes slowly, then began a rumbling purr.

  ‘She likes you.’ Hercules smiled, running a lazy hand along her bare ribs.

  ‘Hercules?’ asked Hedone.

  ‘Mmmm?’ He responded, drowsily.

  ‘I need to ask you something.’ She wiggled her naked body closer against him, wanting to offset the awkwardness of the question she needed answered.

  His arm tightened around her. ‘Anything,’ he said.

  ‘Why did you not help Busiris escape from the cage on Capricorn?’ She felt him stiffen behind her and for a moment she was terrified that she’d been too bold, but then he relaxed and took a long breath in.

  ‘I know the gods have presented the Trials as a game,’ he said quietly. ‘But I must take them as seriously as life or death. We all entered this competition fully aware of the dangers. The Trials should be no less than deadly, given the prize.’ He pulled gently on her shoulder, rolling her to face him. She looked into his stormy eyes, transfixed by the power burning in them. ‘Immortality, Hedone. A chance to live f
orever.’ He spoke slowly, his voice filled with determination. ‘It is my duty to prove my strength to the world. They have accused me of being without mercy in the past and I see no reason not to fulfil the role Olympus has carved out for me.’

  His eyes hardened and Hedone’s heart went out to him. Some had called him a monster when he was on trial for what Hera had made him do. Hedone knew from her experience with her own gift that a man’s mind was not his own when possessed by the will of a god. Hercules had had everything taken from him, had been the victim of a jealous goddesses’ rage. She understood his bitterness. More than that, she knew she could help heal him.

  ‘And when you are immortal, will you stay in that role?’ She touched his face as she spoke, running her fingers down his short coarse beard. He looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘When I am immortal I shall do whatever I please. And you shall be beside me.’ A delicious thrill shuddered through Hedone at his words. ‘We will need to plan you moving to the crew of the Hybris carefully, though,’ he said.

  Hedone frowned. ‘Join the… Hybris?’ She had been so transfixed on the short term, so determined to see Hercules and to ensure his well-being, that the practicalities of being with him after the Trials hadn’t really sunk in. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose I would have to leave the Virtus,’ she said slowly.

  This time Hercules frowned. ‘Do you not want to?’

  ‘I want to be wherever you are. I will be wherever you are.’ Hercules leaned forwards and kissed her, softly at first and his gentleness took her breath away. But as she kissed him back his intensity grew, pulling his body against hers and pushing his hand into her thick dark hair. Yes. She would be wherever he was.

  4

  Soon, Hercules thought as he watched Hedone’s chest move gently up and down as she slept. Soon, she would be in his bed every night. He couldn’t see any other way of living. She must be beside him. But he wasn’t stupid. He needed to be careful. Lyssa had won the last Trial because she had had less wine, clear and simple. Anyone with a Taurean royal on their crew would have won easily; it didn’t worry him that she was winning for now. The real threat was, and always had been, Theseus. And stealing Hedone away from the Virtus was a sure way to attract attention and trouble that, while he could deal with it, wasn’t necessary yet.

  He reached out and gently touched Hedone’s black hair, fanned out on the pillow. An image of red hair, red skin, red blood, flashed through his mind unbidden and he snatched his hand back. He bared his teeth and hissed as he shook his head. Damn these visions! They still plagued him even though the effects of the wine had long since worn off. The respite he had just experienced with Hedone was clearly only temporary.

  He rolled silently out of the bed and padded into his living room. At the bar he poured himself a long glass of ouzo, then downed it in one gulp. It wasn’t the best way to flush out the poison, but it was the most pleasurable and the most likely to help him sleep. Returning to his bedroom, he eased himself onto the mattress, not wanting to wake Hedone. She was tangled up in the silk sheets, looking breathtakingly beautiful, and he inhaled her scent and smiled as he laid his own head down on a pillow. It was time to rest.

  He closed his eyes. Red hair. Red blood. He opened his eyes again. Hera had made him do it and Megara had got what she deserved, he told himself. Hera had made him stronger. Untouchable. He closed his eyes again. Blood staining his hands, those hands on his face…

  It was no good. Sleep would not come. Hercules rolled over and ran his hand lightly down Hedone’s arm, and she twitched and murmured as her eyes fluttered open slowly. He moved his hand to her stomach and Hedone’s sleepy gaze focused on him, then she smiled, her soft lips parting. When he leaned over and kissed her, she pushed herself against his body and she filled his mind completely.

  5

  Lyssa leaned both elbows on the railings of the Alastor, swirling her wine around her glass as she stared out at the sky. She could still just make out the green treetops of Taurus below them, but those seemed insignificant compared to the huge rolling, swirling clouds that surrounded her ship, orange and pink. Tiny slivers of glittering dust corkscrewed among them like shooting stars.

  ‘It is a shame that you didn’t keep the dress on,’ said Phyleus as he leaned against the railing beside her.

  Lyssa rolled her eyes. ‘Not really my style,’ she said, looking sideways at him.

  ‘Well, maybe it should be.’

  ‘Phyleus, you’re not going to turn me into a noble lady. Never going to happen.’

  ‘You can wear a dress and still be you, you know. Your clothes don’t define you.’

  Lyssa heard the veiled accusation in his words. She had judged him because he was part of a world of wealth. She wrinkled her nose.

  ‘You weren’t wearing any shoes when I met you,’ she said. Phyleus laughed, loudly, and Lyssa found a smile spreading across her own face.

  He stood straight and held up his glass. ‘A toast? From bare feet to immortality.’

  Lyssa grinned and clinked her glass against his.

  ‘From bare feet to immortality,’ she repeated and took a long drink.

  ‘Where’s Epizon?’ asked Phyleus.

  ‘Is he not up on deck?’ Lyssa frowned.

  Phyleus shook his head ‘I haven’t seen him.’

  There was a jarring sound and both of them spun around, wine sloshing out of Phyleus’s glass and onto the wooden planks at his feet. Lyssa groaned loudly.

  ‘Oh gods, Len is going to play.’ Phyleus raised his eyebrows in question. ‘He’s the only one with any skill at all on a fiddle. He says as a satyr he has a god-given ability to play but I’ll let you decide if he’s got that right.’

  ‘I can play,’ Phyleus said.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Lyssa drawled.

  Phyleus gave her an exasperated look. ‘I thought we were moving past this! We literally just had a conversation about not judging somebody by their upbringing.’

  Lyssa threw both her hands in the air.

  ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. Please.’ She gestured to where Len was sitting under the main mast next to Abderos, trying incompetently to extract a tune from the small instrument. ‘Save us from this pain.’

  Phyleus narrowed his eyes at her, then strode over to the satyr. Lyssa leaned back on the railings to watch. The part of her that still resented Phyleus wanted him to make a fool of himself. But a larger part of her just wanted to watch him.

  ‘May I?’ Phyleus held his hand out towards the instrument and Len looked up at him.

  ‘Please, gods, tell me you are better than him,’ said Abderos, tipping his own wine down his throat. ‘We don’t have enough alcohol on board to deal with him playing for long.’

  Len snorted loudly, his furry face scrunching up. ‘You just don’t appreciate true talent when you hear it. Among my own people music like this is a gift.’

  ‘As a fellow Taurean I can tell that satyrs would enjoy your playing. Perhaps human ears just can’t hear the same things as you can,’ Phyleus said diplomatically. Lyssa smiled as Len straightened slightly and passed the instrument to Phyleus, nodding.

  ‘Yes. I’m sure that’s what it is…’ Abderos started to speak but Phyleus’s drew the bow across the instrument’s strings and his words faded.

  Phyleus had been right. He could play. The tune wasn’t exactly melancholy but neither was it uplifting. Grief and love swelled within Lyssa as the chords flowed and she watched Phyleus sway as he played. The delicate start of the piece had been misleading, and the longer he played the more the tune built. Power seem to flow through the notes and they pulled at something deep inside her.

  It wasn’t sadness she was feeling, but resolution. A determination to make amends for all the wrong that she and her crew had been dealt. As the tune reached a crescendo Lyssa realised she was holding her breath. Phyleus was moving around the deck now, his steps in time with the powerful music, his eyes closed. He was beautiful. The curves of his arms as he drew the bow backwa
rds and forwards, his lithe frame moving in time to the music. She wanted him. The notes built and built and as they did, so did her desire.

  Phyleus opened his eyes as he played the final climactic note. There was a moment’s silence, then everyone on the deck erupted into applause. Even Nestor, who had been standing solemnly apart from the group, moved forwards, her hands clapping and face soft. Lyssa stepped away from the railing towards Phyleus.

  ‘That was…’ she started. His eyes were shining, his lips parted, his chest heaving. She could see the thrill he’d got from playing. He looked so alive. Heat burned inside her and her skin prickled. ‘That was… really good,’ she finished carefully. He smiled.

  ‘How about something more appropriate for a party?’ he said, and began to play again, this time an upbeat melody that made Lyssa want to tap her feet. Len made a small noise of delight, leaped off his box and grabbed Lyssa’s hand. She laughed as he twirled under her arm, an easy thing to do given that he only reached her hip. She caught Phyleus’s eyes and his voice sounded in her head.

  ‘Dance, Captain Lyssa. Dance like there’s no tomorrow.’

  And she did.

  6

  Evadne had needed to do little to avoid her captain since they’d been back on board the Hybris, but she’d barely left her room all the same. She paced back and forth, unable to read or sleep. Every time she pictured his face she saw that maniacal look in his eyes, felt the hot blood of the manticore splatter across her face. She felt trapped, her ambition and need to win warring with her instinctual sense of self-preservation. Hercules was dangerous, of that there was no doubt.

  The walls of her small chambers seemed to close in around her, her options limited and her mind unable to settle. Suddenly feeling like she couldn’t breathe, she kicked open the door and half-ran to the hauler. She needed air.

  As soon as she got to the top deck she headed for the railings, taking a long breath and trying to calm her skittering stomach. How long would it take for Hercules to go too far with her punishments? Where would she go if she had to escape? Would he follow her if she ran? Could she really flee and give up the chance to win immortality? The endless questions whirled through her brain.