by Eliza Raine
‘I don’t care,’ she mumbled. He pushed back against her, and a little shudder of longing ran through her as she felt his arousal.
‘Really? You blush pretty easily, you know.’
‘I’m captain. I can do what I like.’
‘And I guess that includes flinging the ship all over place whenever you’re having a good time?’ She rolled over to face him, punching him in the arm.
‘I’ll get better at controlling it,’ she said, looking into his smiling face.
‘Ahh, please don’t. It doesn’t do any harm to my reputation as a lover.’ He grinned at her, and she punched him again. He laughed and kissed her, his warm hands moving down her back.
‘I can’t believe I held out on this so long,’ she said, running her fingers along his jaw. ‘You’re amazing.’
‘So are you,’ he whispered. ‘And it doesn’t matter how long it took us to get here. We’re here now.’
The thought of the real world, and the Trial they had yet to face, dampened Lyssa’s bliss.
‘What if this is the only time we get to do this? What if Hercules kills one or both of us tomorrow?’ She couldn’t help the trickle of fear that leaked into her words, and Phyleus pushed himself up on one elbow, cupping her cheek firmly in his other hand.
‘Then we had something incredible before the end. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ His warm gaze didn’t flicker. He was fearless, Lyssa thought.
‘How did you become so brave?’
Phyleus gave a little laugh.
‘It was always cockiness and bravado, until you. Honestly, Lyssa, I would give anything for us, for you, to be free of Hercules tomorrow. But if today is all we have, then I wouldn’t change a thing.’
‘Nor would I,’ she told him, and she meant it. But now that she knew what she could have if they won... The resolve and determination that had grown and grown over the last eleven Trials solidified inside her, everything she knew morphing into one truth. Only one crew would survive the twelfth Trial. And it would be them. Hercules must die.
‘What would you do with eternity, Captain Lyssa?’ Phyleus asked her softly. She stared into his face, the passion in his darkening eyes sending her pulse rocketing and her thoughts scattering.
‘I don’t give a damn about eternity,’ she breathed, pressing herself against him. ‘I just want you.’
3
When the flash of white light hit his chamber, Hercules tipped the last of the glass of ouzo down his throat with a snarl. He didn’t know how much of the burning, clear spirit he had drunk. It was enough that he couldn’t remember how the furniture had gotten so slashed up, the books and maps had been ripped apart, the broken glass had got everywhere. He had done it, he knew dimly. But he couldn’t remember.
‘You’ll scare off that beautiful new prize of yours if you’re not careful,’ Zeus said, standing in the centre of the mess, looking around disdainfully. Hercules looked up at him from where he leaned against the mahogany wall, where the toppled bookcase had stood before. His head pounded angrily, and the sight of his father was filtered through a red haze. Zeus was appearing to him human-sized, but power rolled off his form as though he were larger than Olympus itself.
‘You’re here to tell me I’m a fool,’ Hercules spat.
‘Hercules, you are no fool. But you are allowing the rest of the world to see you as one.’
Rage bubbled under his skin, his muscles spasming as he sat up straight.
‘I don’t know what else I can do!’ he shouted, banging his fist on the floor. ‘They all have help! I have nothing!’
Purple electricity filtered through the red haze, crackling around his father.
‘You have no help? What would you call assistance from the lord of the gods himself?’ Zeus hissed, gesturing at Keravnos lying amongst the shredded remains of a couch. ‘You are behaving like a spoiled child. You have the best ship, the best armour, the best weapon, the most strength and now you bed the goddess of pleasure. In what way, Hercules, do you believe you are at a disadvantage?’ His voice had fallen to a deadly pitch, and a frisson of fear rippled through Hercules.
‘I...’
‘No more excuses!’ Zeus bellowed, and power burst from him, booming through the Hybris. Hercules flinched as the windows at the back of his bedchamber shattered, the whole ship shaking. ‘You will kill the beast tomorrow, and you will win immortality, or so help me, I will make you wish you had never been born! You will embarrass me no longer!’ Sparks of electricity shot from Zeus’s hands as he grew, his eyes becoming black and lethal. Hercules felt his whole body clench, control of his muscles abandoning him.
Fear took hold of him for real, the unfamiliar emotion overriding his anger and causing him to try to shrink back against the wall, struggling against the paralysis. Then, with a snarl, the god vanished in a flash of light.
Hercules sagged forward as his limbs came back to life, taking a long breath. Shame crept over him as he took long gulps of air, flexing his arms to reassure himself that they were working again. Zeus was right. He had everything he needed, and he was the strongest. Why hadn’t he won already? He’d removed those he had believed were a threat, but that blasted girl was still clinging on, determined to make his life difficult. A vision of Megara, lying at his feet, covered in blood, forced its way past the image of Lyssa. She’d been trying to protect her son when he had killed her. His son. Hera had made him kill the child first, and he’d taken no pleasure in it. Would his son have been as strong as Lyssa had grown to be? He closed his eyes and shook his head. It didn’t matter now.
Killing Megara had been different. She had deserved it. She had earned his wrath. A small bolt of power pulsed through his body. He was a force to be reckoned with, as he had proved time and time again. He thought about the lion he had killed in the first Trial, the sheer brute strength he had demonstrated to the world. He sat up straight, looking for the lion skin. For his trophy.
He spotted it lying on the floor, next to an armchair that was still intact, and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet to stumble towards it. His chest ached from where Evadne had embedded the crossbow bolt in it and his face twisted at the memory. Then the bolt he had fired into Hippolyta’s gut came to mind, and a smile spread across his face as he replaced the image of Hippolyta with one of Evadne, blood spreading under her hands.
He dropped down into the armchair hard, and leaned over the side of it to scoop up the lion skin. The fur was still soft and thick, and he laid it on his lap, the empty lion eyes towards him. Gata had been beautiful as both a woman and a lion.
Another pulse of power shot through him at the thought. Red tinged the edges of his vision again as the urge to fight, to kill, roared up inside him. He gripped the lion skin hard. Save it, he told himself. Save the rage for Hades’ beast. He could restore Zeus’s faith in him. He had to.
The god’s words rang in his head and he barely suppressed a shudder. How could he become as powerful as that? If he were immortal, he would be able to get closer to the gods. He would be able to gain favours, over time. He would learn their secrets. If he were immortal, he would have forever to grow in power and knowledge and influence. He would have forever to sate the constant, burning desire to destroy that Hera had unleashed when she made him kill his family. And he would have forever to work out how to become as powerful as Zeus.
4
A solitary tear slid down Hedone’s cheek as Zeus’s voice boomed through the Hybris. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs and taking a shaking breath as the ship rocked and vibrated around her. She thought she was in Evadne’s old rooms, but she wasn’t sure.
When Hercules had finally stopped drinking and stood up from his chair, she’d known from the look on his face that she couldn’t make him feel better. His eyes were unfocused, his lips twisted, the man she loved nowhere to be seen in his vicious expression. She didn’t think for a moment that he would harm her, but when he’d lifted Keravnos and brought it down thro
ugh the middle of the couch she’d left the room quickly. Not knowing where to go, she picked a door she knew didn’t lead to Asterion’s rooms and slipped inside.
Hercules’s temper took him to a place far, far away from her. She understood, of course, but that didn’t stop her hating it. And now... Zeus’s bellowed words had been clear. Hercules had to win the next Trial, or not only would he lose his chance of immortality and be humiliated in front of all of Olympus, but he would earn Zeus’s wrath too. The pressure on him had already been great enough to affect him badly; how would he cope with this?
Hedone knew the answer to that, she told herself. He would fight. He would be strong. He would win.
And she had to help him. She had to make up for what had happened with Ladon. Exactly as Hercules had feared, she had become a hindrance rather than a help, getting captured and becoming a distraction. She clenched her teeth, regret rolling through her as thought about his stony demeanour when they had reappeared back on the Hybris deck at the end of the Trial. It was clear he was furious, with Zeus and Lyssa and at the loss of the Trial, but also with her. She’d apologised over and over as he said nothing. Eventually, with his fists clenched and his jaw twitching, he’d told her that he would fix it in the last Trial and had begun drinking.
Hedone knew she should stay out of his way. She knew he already loved her, that she didn’t need to prove anything to him. But the thought of not being able to help him if he needed it was unbearable. And she knew that she couldn’t help him defeat a beast. She wasn’t a fighter, she wasn’t strong. Her powers were useless, she couldn’t seduce a monster.
Hedone took a long breath as the idea she’d being trying to squash and ignore for days took full hold of her. She knew what she could do to help him. And even though he wouldn’t approve, she needed to show him how strong she could be.
5
Eryx sat in the middle of the nest of sheets on the cargo deck, staring at Tenebrae. She stared back, unblinking. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what kind of creature she was, to be able to fix the mast of the Alastor as she had, or how she had summoned and tethered the Orion.
‘Eryx,’ said a deep voice, and he swivelled around to see Epizon stepping out of the hauler.
‘Epizon,’ he said, pushing himself to his feet.
‘Do you mind if I have an hour with Tenebrae?’
‘Of course not,’ Eryx said, leaning over to pick up his shirt. It was filthy and torn and he couldn’t help the flicker of distaste that crossed his face as the smell of it hit him. ‘Is there anywhere I can wash this?’ he asked the first mate, holding it up. Epizon raised his eyebrows at the tattered garment.
‘I think that shirt might be beyond washing. Why don’t you take your new longboat over to the Orion and grab some wearable clothes?’
Eryx didn’t want to go to the Orion. He didn’t want to be on Antaeus’s ship, where he’d just killed one of his own crew-mates. But he didn’t want to tell Epizon that either.
‘Um, yeah, sure. Good idea,’ he mumbled, and walked towards the hauler.
‘Eryx, you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened,’ Epizon said quietly as they passed each other. ‘Hercules is the only person to blame.’
‘I killed Busiris. I knocked him overboard.’
‘I spoke to Evadne. It sounds like Busiris had lost it. He was a cruel man and likely a killer too. You may have saved many more lives in the future, by causing the end of his.’
Eryx looked at Epizon’s honest face.
‘You think so?’
‘Yes. I fought in the pits for years. I know of Busiris’s reputation. And I recognise cruelty. You’re no killer, Eryx.’
A small flurry of something like confidence rippled through Eryx as he processed the words. He knew Busiris had been cruel. And he knew that he himself had no desire to kill. Epizon was right. Antaeus had told him that Busiris was first mate because he had money. But he had never called him brother. And now the Orion was the last link Eryx had to his captain.
‘I’ll go and get some clothes from the Orion,’ he said, nodding at Epizon. ‘Thank you.’
‘Sure. Maybe take Evadne with you, she’s been obsessing over that Hydra key for hours. She could do with a break.’
Eryx smiled.
‘Will do.’
Evadne leaped at the chance to go to the Orion again. And when they landed on the deck, Eryx refused to let negative emotions overwhelm him. Instead, he concentrated on the good memories, and the kernel of hope that Hercules would pay for what he had done. They went straight to his rooms, where the sight of Evadne sitting cross-legged on his bed as he rummaged through his clothes drawers brought a smile to his face.
‘Want to play dice?’ he asked her.
‘Dice? I have to work out how to open this stupid key,’ she said, her eyebrows shooting up.
‘We have about six hours until we reach Virgo. Just one game,’ he coaxed. She cocked her head at him, a small smile on her lips.
‘I thought you didn’t want to come back here?’ she asked. ‘Now you want to stay and play dice?’
‘I want to keep the good memories. And that includes learning to play dice with you, in my room.’ Evadne’s smile widened, her eyes lighting up.
‘I get to go first,’ she said.
He laughed.
‘I’m the beginner, remember? Go easy on me.’
6
‘Three Whirlwinds, I win!’ Evadne threw her hands in the air triumphantly as she beamed down at the dice she’d just thrown.
‘Best of five?’ Eryx scowled at her. She opened her mouth to accept the challenge, but paused. Until they had begun to play games in Eryx’s room, her mind had been dominated by fear. Busiris had made a good point, while she was strapped helpless to the mast of the ship. Hercules had a score to settle with her. If she went down to Virgo and he saw her... It would be a moment’s work for him to kill her, if the opportunity arose. And if he won immortality... Killing her would be a mercy he would not show. He would make her suffer, she was sure. As nice as it was to escape reality for a short while, she was quite convinced that there was a good chance they were flying towards her death. She had to work out the Hydra key. Poseidon had said she could do it. Perhaps she could make a difference.
‘We should get back to the Alastor,’ she said. Eryx’s face fell and she reached for him before she could stop herself. ‘Thanks for the game, though.’
‘Hmm. I don’t think I was much of a challenge.’
‘Then we’ll have to play more, when this is over.’
‘Do you... Do you think we’ll win?’
‘Yes,’ Evadne said, firmly. ‘We have to. Everyone on the Alastor has a good reason to want Hercules dead. And he is one man.’
‘So... So we would become immortal?’
‘I don’t know if we would count as part of Lyssa’s crew in the gods’ eyes.’ Evadne shrugged. It was strange to feel so indifferent towards the prize now. There was still the twinge of hope inside her, the familiar surge of longing when she thought about living forever, but it almost felt distant, like it was somewhere inside her, in a place she didn’t access any more.
‘If I was immortal, I could learn to become a really good captain,’ said Eryx. Evadne laughed.
‘You’ll do that if you only live to eighty,’ she told him. He looked at her seriously.
‘And you’ll help me?’
‘Always.’
A flash of indecision crossed his broad face, then he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a brief, awkward kiss, his face that much larger than hers, his movements unsure and clumsy, but it made her heart soar and her breath catch. He moved backwards quickly, his face aflame.
‘I, um, I...’ he started, but she held her hand up to his lips, silencing him. Then she leaned forward, and kissed him gently.
She didn’t know if they were going to beat Hercules. Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine how anything could stop him, when the bloodlust took him. But she knew that a
s long as she was with Eryx, and he was happy, she had made all the right decisions.
But a few hours later Evadne was no closer to working out the Hydra key, and she couldn’t help her mounting anxiety as she stood with the crew of the Alastor on the top deck. The dark metal of the key was warm, from being held in her sweating palms. She’d spent hours now, examining the surface for hidden seams or joins, scouring the intricate pattern carved in it for clues or holes or mistakes. But she could see nothing. It was just a solid metal sphere.
She tried to slow her thumping heart as Lyssa strode onto the deck. The captain was dressed as she usually was in leather trousers and boots, and a white shirt. A weapons belt was strapped across her hips and loaded with slingshots and a dagger, and her red curls were pushed back from her face by her headscarf. But despite her diminutive stature, nobody stood before her at that moment would doubt she had Zeus’s power flowing through her veins. She was emanating power, Evadne thought, hope blossoming. She’d never felt power like this from Lyssa before, even though she had seen her use her Rage. This was something else. And it was so different to Hercules’s power. His seethed and flowed and grew, like expanding shadows. Lyssa’s pulsed and bounced and danced, like the light on the sails of her ship.
Was it to be that simple at the end? Light versus dark? The contrast seemed so clear, so stark now, that Evadne couldn’t understand how she had ever been on the wrong side.
7
Lyssa felt as though she could barely contain the power flooding her body as she stepped onto the top deck. She didn’t know whether it was the overwhelming emotions for Phyleus charging her power, or her new connection with the Alastor, but she was grateful for it.
