Tides of Olympus

by Eliza Raine

  ‘Aha!’ He dragged a dull iron spear upright next to him. It was at least ten feet tall and Hedone blinked up at its end, where there were three sharp prongs. It wasn’t a spear, but a trident. ‘This might work,’ Theseus said. He hefted it onto his shoulder awkwardly, then ran for the nearest lava tube.

  14

  Sweat flowed freely down Eryx’s brow as he brought the hammer down on the anvil again and again. His shoulders burned from the weight of the tool, but there was no way he was going to stop. Not when Hyperion was watching him so closely.

  He cast a sideways glance at Antaeus at the next anvil, the tattooed serpents on his back writhing as his muscles strained. Surely the square of metal in front of him had to be flat enough by now? He picked up it up and peered at it closely, then turned and handed it to Hyperion. The giant took it and examined every bit of the surface, then gave a tiny nod. He laid it down next to eight others, forming a larger square over a pattern moulded into the rock of the platform.

  ‘That should be enough,’ he said, and Antaeus dropped his hammer with a clang.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Eryx, trying not to pant.

  Hyperion ambled to the vat and picked up what looked like a massive spoon with a long handle. He dipped it in the molten lava and carried it carefully over to the squares of metal, then began to pour. The metal hissed and glowed and melted into the carved shape below. Hyperion went to get another ladleful, three times, eventually completely covering the mould. Then he crouched down beside one corner and dipped his hands into the glowing liquid metal.

  Eryx cried out and stepped forwards but Antaeus put his arm in front of him and glared. Eryx dropped his hands to his side and watched in amazement as Hyperion moved quickly, manipulating a section of the cooling metal, then moving on. In just a few minutes he had covered the whole area.

  He stood up and gestured for them to approach.

  It was a net. As promised. Eryx stared at the tiny links of metal, hundreds of them, all chained together into a tight, almost beautiful web.

  ‘How…?’

  ‘You learn much in the forges,’ Hyperion said simply. ‘Take it and go with luck.’ He turned away without a smile and lumbered towards the stairs to a nearby bridge.

  The net was so heavy that Eryx and Antaeus could only just carry it between them. Eryx was sure that there was no part of his body not sweating when they finally set it down in front of a lava tube.

  ‘We’re going to have to roll it to get past the lava fall,’ said Antaeus. Eryx grunted and they laid the net out flat on the platform, then began to roll, the small interlocking links clinking as they went.

  ‘You really think this will work, Captain?’ asked Eryx.

  ‘I trust Hyperion,’ answered Antaeus. When the net was rolled into a long flexible tube they each heaved an end over one shoulder and climbed carefully onto the ledge. They made slow progress, Eryx desperate to get back to the cooler water and longing for that surreal sensation of being to breathe clear, cool air. It was stifling in the forge. Perhaps he would have to re-evaluate his notion of Scorpio as a haven. Hyperion may have been right. His human traits did make him different.

  ‘See you on the other side,’ called Antaeus, and Eryx snapped out of his thoughts as his captain disappeared through the rippling wall of water at the end of the tube. He hurried after him, the net becoming lighter in his hands as the water took more of its weight.

  They emerged high on the volcano, above a smaller group of the birds. Perfect, he thought, relishing the sudden lack of heat. Antaeus had hold of the edge of the net and between them they slowly unrolled it. Holding a corner each, they swam towards the metal birds, Eryx brimming with confidence.

  15

  Something hard hit Lyssa out of nowhere and her cry of surprise and pain was lost as she went tumbling through the water. She kicked wildly, trying to right herself. A metal feather swished past her and she whirled around in confusion. Then Hercules was in front of her, a deadly calm on his face.

  It was as though time slowed to a stop. Her body reacted, her power building inside her, and she waited for the paralysing fear to clamp around her. But it didn’t come. I am no longer the girl who ran. The words rang loud and clear through her mind as she stared into those familiar grey eyes. It was true. She wanted to bellow the mantra in his face, scream at him that this time she would make him want to run and hide, that it was her turn to cause him pain. Red seeped into her vision and her skin throbbed with Rage as his mouth turned up in a cold smile.

  Lyssa and Hercules launched themselves at each other simultaneously. Gods, he was strong. Stronger than her, she realised as his shoulder caught her square in the chest. She gasped for breath as she rolled backwards, barely ducking out of his way in time as he turned and charged again.

  She kicked hard through the water to get above him and threw her hands out at his neck. Her right hand made contact and she dug her nails into the lion skin, swinging herself onto his back. He rolled and she threw her fist into his side, making him jerk, but not much, and she hissed. She needed to get under his impenetrable cloak. He thrashed, trying to get her off his back but she clung on, grappling to reach the front of the lion skin and pull it from him. Every time she got purchase he pulled at her hand, ripping it from the material, and she roared in frustration. Power surged through her and she drew back her arm without thinking, then brought it crashing around into the side of his head.

  For a second he went completely still and Lyssa’s heart pounded so hard in her chest she thought it might give out. But then he began to thrash beneath her again, hard enough this time that her right hand was ripped from the cloak and she was thrown away from him. He spun so fast he was a blur and she didn’t have time to avoid his massive fist. It caught her on her shoulder and she felt the bone snap.

  Blinding pain cracked through the Rage and for a split second she couldn’t move at all. Hercules’s cold grey eyes shone as he drew his fist back again and Lyssa’s skin fizzed to life, energy bursting through her body, her power beating back the pain. She kicked up, hard, and his swipe dragged through water beneath her. He followed, grabbing at her boot and pulling her back down towards him.

  Letting him keep hold of her boot she ducked her head again, so that she was upside down and punched his stomach hard. Her fist hit the spot where the lion-skin cloak didn’t quite meet and he shot backwards, his grip wrenching painfully at her foot before it was released. The look on his face was pure fury as he charged back towards her.

  She couldn’t beat him here. She couldn’t move her arm at all and although she couldn’t feel the pain, he was stronger than her. But she couldn’t run either.

  Rage flowed through her and she drew on it, remembering who she was. She was the granddaughter of Zeus, she had god-given strength. She was unbeatable.

  Her muscles twitched and throbbed as she darted out of Hercules’s path, but she wasn’t fast enough. His hand caught her wounded shoulder and the pain roared back through her. He pulled her to him, gripping her throat with his other hand and squeezing. Madness danced in his grey eyes and fear enveloped Lyssa. She wasn’t unbeatable. She was going to die. Her father would finish the job he had started four years ago.

  She clawed frantically at his hand, scratching and pulling, kicking at him with her legs, but he was too strong. Black replaced the red in her vision and lancing pain throbbed through her head. She stared into Hercules’s face, her body now refusing to answer her pleas to fight.

  Suddenly Hercules’s face changed, morphing into a mask of pain, and he dropped her. She kicked backwards frantically, gasping for breath. What had happened?

  Hercules was looking down at a deep gash in his leg, and red blood was seeping into the water around him. Epizon was beneath Hercules, holding a fallen steel feather like a sword, fury in his face. Lyssa kicked out, pushing all her Rage, all her power, all her hatred, into the movement.

  Her boot connected with the side of Hercules’s head and he went flying through the
water.

  16

  For a moment, Hercules could see nothing but black, nausea roiling in his stomach as he spiralled through the water. He forced out the pain as he waved his arms, slowing his movement, his vision slowly clearing.

  He had nearly done it. He had nearly ended the girl’s miserable life. He’d been so close.

  Something shot past him, fast, and he looked up. The birds. There were so many of them, swarming above him, beating their wings and sending razor sharp feathers down through the water towards him. Another whizzed past and he swore silently. He looked back to Lyssa, and his head pounded as he moved it. Her first mate was helping her swim back towards the volcano. It looked like her right arm was injured. Excellent, he thought.

  He tested the use of his wounded leg. It stung as he moved it through the water but he could still swim well enough. He narrowed his focus to the red-haired girl and kicked towards her. This time he would strike where it would hurt her most.

  17

  Lyssa’s right arm was useless, and now that the Rage wasn’t pulsing through her body so strongly, her muscles were twitching and spasming. It made swimming painfully slow.

  Epizon pulled her towards the volcano, but although she didn’t resist him, she didn’t want to go back into the forge. Up, she thought, dizzily. She wanted to go up. She didn’t want to be in the water any more, or in the suffocating heat of the forge. She needed air, space. Freedom.

  She tugged against her first mate’s grip and he looked back at her. She tipped her head back, looking towards the surface for the shadow of her ship. But there were so many birds. They ducked and swooped, their threatening motion clear. Come close and you’ll die.

  Lyssa and Epizon were out of range of their missiles but they couldn’t get to the surface. There was little chance of her fighting and disabling two more now. They couldn’t win and they were trapped.

  Epizon suddenly pulled hard on her hand again, swerving her body though the water. She looked at him in confusion, then screamed as a shining feather slammed into his chest. Epizon’s eyes widened as he soared backwards, but before Lyssa could reach him, Hercules was there, pulling the blade from Epizon’s chest. Blood flowed from the wound, surrounding the two men, and the fear crippling Lyssa suddenly snapped, Rage-fuelled strength ripping through her aching body.

  She kicked towards them, roaring, but Hercules was dragging Epizon up, towards the birds. Hercules looked back and launched the sharp feather at her. She dodged it easily, swimming fast after them, god-given power replacing pain and fear. Hercules had thrown the feather, she realised, pulling herself through the water with her left arm. He must have; the birds were too far away. And Epizon had pulled her out of the way. Her skin burned with white-hot anger. She needed to save him.

  Hercules had nearly reached the birds, pulling his lion skin up over his head as he came within range of their lethal feathers, and leaving a trail of Epizon’s blood in his wake. Lyssa couldn’t see if Epizon was conscious or not, and no matter how hard she kicked, she wasn’t fast enough without the use of her right arm.

  Missiles began to rain down and she spun and swerved to avoid them, her screams silent as feather after feather sailed past Epizon, some catching his limbs and spilling fresh blood into the water around him. Suddenly everything darkened, and for a brief moment the hail of feathers stopped. A massive shadow had moved over the surface of the water.

  Hercules paused to look up but Lyssa kept moving, reaching for Epizon. The birds above suddenly scattered and Lyssa’s breath caught as Nestor powered through the swarm, her great horse legs seeming to gallop through the water. She loosed her hammer at Hercules with an obvious roar, and the huge man hunched down inside his impenetrable cloak.

  The distraction was all Lyssa needed. She grabbed Epizon’s arm and pulled him from Hercules’s grasp, kicking desperately up through the gap the centaur had cleaved, towards the surface.

  Dragging Epizon’s dead weight with one arm, her legs burning, she kicked desperately, but barely managed to move. Then Phyleus was on the other side of her, his cheeks puffed out with held breath. He grabbed Epizon’s other arm with both of his and suddenly she was able to move again. They swam quickly, but Nestor kicked past them, her strong legs moving her at twice their speed. In seconds Lyssa’s head broke the surface of the water, her heart swelling at the sight of the Alastor on the ocean beside her. Len was standing in the open cargo hauler on the side of the ship, just a foot above the waves, and Phyleus pulled himself up quickly. Together they heaved Epizon into the hauler, and Len got to work at once, tending the wound in his shoulder. Phyleus leaned over and grabbed for Lyssa’s good arm, pulling her from the ocean.

  ‘Is he OK?’ she asked, staring down at Epizon’s closed eyes.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Len calmly. ‘This may have punctured his lung. We need to get him to the infirmary.’

  ‘Captain,’ called a voice. Lyssa turned to see Nestor, bobbing in the water behind them. ‘I can’t get out,’ the centaur said, her face a mask of anger. Along with Phyleus, Lyssa stood up, the world tilting slightly as she did so, and they grabbed awkwardly at Nestor’s front haunches. A well-timed wave swept the centaur forwards and she got enough purchase to scrabble into the hauler, knocking Lyssa’s shoulder as she did so. Pain crashed through Lyssa’s arm and chest and she cried out.

  ‘Are you…’

  She didn’t hear Phyleus finish the question as she crumpled to the ground, darkness overtaking her.

  18

  Evadne was exhausted. After he’d rounded the volcano the telkhine had started swimming up the sheer side, swiftly and easily. She had followed, but now, most of the way up the volcano, her legs were aching from swimming and her shallow breathing was making her dizzy.

  She slowed until she was at a complete stop, her eyes still fixed on the creature ahead. Her knees bumped against the rock as she drew her legs up, trying to stretch them. She forced herself to take a deep breath, panic rising in her as she did so. But, like last time, it was fine. Cool air filled her lungs. See, you can breathe normally, she scolded herself. She watched, grateful for the rest, as the telkhine crested the wide crater at the top of the volcano. What was up there?

  With a slightly less reluctant breath she pushed off the rock and swam after it.

  The lip of the crater was jagged, and completely vertical. Evadne gripped it and pulled herself up slowly, not sure what to expect.

  Her mouth fell open as she took in the view. A ring of steam jets circled the perimeter of the crater, but in the centre, cresting a tall thin black spire, was a bird’s nest. It was about the size of a bed and there were four gleaming eggs in it, red, purple, white and blue. She pulled herself up a little further, saw movement on the other side of the crater, and ducked back down again quickly.

  It was the telkhine. No, more than one. She shuffled along the rim of the crater, trying to get a better view through the steam. There were five or six of them, all with their backs to her. What were they doing?

  Evadne swam up, considering the jets of steam. They weren’t shooting out of the volcano constantly. Every now and then there was a pause. She watched the two jets closest to her carefully, counting in her head and praying there was a pattern.

  After a few minutes she was certain there was. The bursts were separated by four seconds, and the pause lasted for three. She positioned herself as close to the steam as she could without the water scalding her skin, and waited. Four seconds after the first one stopped, she felt the water cool around her and then the steam cleared.

  She swam as fast as she could through the gap, holding her breath. Heat engulfed her foot, but she pushed on, kicking hard, until she was through. She looked around quickly, expecting something to be guarding the eggs, but nothing happened. They were just there, in the middle of a tangle of metal wires and pipes.

  None of the telkhines on the other side turned to her. Did they even know she was there? She swam towards them, curiosity burning. What were they
looking at?

  She swam slowly and carefully, doing her best to creep while under water, moving higher, hoping to be able to see them better from above. As she neared the steam she could see that there were six of them, and the central four were wearing iron crowns and holding ornately decorated hammers. She looked out in the direction they were all staring. The flock of stymphalian birds were just below, and Evadne couldn’t see through them to the ocean floor, or to Hercules.

  One of the telkhines lifted his hammer and four metal birds beat their wings towards him. Evadne backed up quickly, but the telkhine thrust the hammer out and the birds rushed in the direction he’d indicated. She frowned. All the telkhines were moving their hammers, even if only subtly, she realised. Were they controlling the birds with them? She watched, transfixed, as they flicked their wrists and small groups of stymphalian birds responded, moving in the water and firing their sharp feathers. They were controlling them, she was sure of it. If she could remove just one of these creatures…

  Her hand went to her hip and she pulled her slingshot from her belt. It was a risk. She would give her position away, for sure, and the tridents held by the two telkhines on either end of the line looked dangerous. But if she could just knock out one telkhine, her crew could win. The telkhines must be controlling at least three birds each; there were scores of them down there. All Hercules would have to do was destroy the immobile birds.

  What if one of the other heroes got to them first? She might accidentally hand the win to somebody else. No, Hercules would be in the thick of it, she had no doubt. His impervious lion skin and endless self-confidence would keep him closer to the beasts than any of the other heroes. She loaded a lead ball into her slingshot, aimed carefully through the steam, and fired.