by Eliza Raine
A small hiss of steam puffed out of the key and she held her breath, wide-eyed. When nothing else happened she pulled her nail out of the metal, and turned the ball quickly, looking for another red bit. She found one, and repeated the action. Another puff of steam.
She kept going, turning the key, looking for the red sections of the pattern. Every time she found one more appeared, until she had lost count of how many little puffs of steam had been released. Then, finally, there was a loud click, and a tiny seam appeared, snaking its way all around the middle of the orb. Holding her breath, she pulled at each half of the line. The key fell open, the two halves joined by a tiny hinge, and in the centre was a vial full of thick, dark blue liquid. She picked it up gingerly, holding it to the orange light. Was it...?
She dropped the empty orb to the ground, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she carefully pulled the tiny stopper out and sniffed at the vial. Sulphur, she confirmed, her nose wrinkling. It was Hydra blood.
15
‘Where is my cowardly daughter?’ roared Hercules as he rolled under Eryx’s swing, kicking out and catching him in the thigh. Eryx swore and darted out of reach as Hercules bounced back to his feet. Where was that red-haired bitch? The flash of white light he’d seen surely meant a god had taken her, but why?
Hercules glanced over his shoulder at Cerberus, prowling unhindered in front of the gates. He couldn’t see Asterion. The minotaur was useless, he thought, sneering, and turned back to see whether the centaur had recovered herself yet. ‘I will not kill either of you until she is here to see it!’ he shouted as she pawed at the ground twenty feet away. If Lyssa wasn’t here, he may as well end the Trials. He would have no trouble finding a way to kill her and crew publically once he was immortal.
He snapped his attention back towards the gates and Cerberus, thinking fast. The flames wouldn’t bother Hercules himself, not with the lion skin protecting him. But he had no weapons, so he would have to take down the guard-dog with his bare hands. Excitement thrummed through him as his eyes settled on the neck of the central head. This would be child’s play, he thought, and began to run towards the monster.
Cerberus saw him coming, abandoned his pacing and dropped low on his haunches. A vicious snarl bubbled from all three mouths, their teeth dripping with dark red saliva as all six eyes focused on Hercules. Then another flash of white light forced his own eyes shut, and something hit him hard in the side. The air left his lungs as he flew towards the wing wall.
‘This is it, Hercules!’ Lyssa cried, as he landed hard, snapping his head around to see she that she had appeared out of nowhere, holding a glowing bow, fury and pain written on her face. ‘This ends now,’ she said, and for a moment he swore he could see purple crackling in her fierce eyes.
‘At last!’ he roared, and leaped to his feet. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’
Gods, she had become strong, he thought as they smashed into each other. He still had the advantage, though, his huge weight forcing her backwards as she locked her fists onto the lion skin as his shoulder-charge connected. Power rolled off her, and it wasn’t Zeus’s, he realised. It was different somehow, and a tiny flicker of doubt sparked in him as she pulled hard.
The lion skin shifted over him and he rolled his shoulder hard, trying to dislodge her as he spun on the spot. Heat suddenly roared up around him and Lyssa let go abruptly as they stumbled into Cerberus’s path. The guard-dog gave a single, terrifying bark and Hercules sprinted out of its way, back down the cavern. He registered Asterion, fighting with Eryx, as he passed, the quick half-giant ducking the minotaur’s mace easily and landing blow after blow. The fool creature didn’t deserve immortality, Hercules thought as he slowed down and turned back.
He barely had time to blink before Lyssa’s fist smashed into his face.
16
Blood. Everywhere. Hedone felt like she was drowning in it. She couldn’t control the fear, couldn’t separate what was really happening from the images her mind was forcing on her. One minute she could see Hercules running through the cavern, the next he was a bloody twisted mess on the ground. Then he was back, wrestling with Lyssa, but her red hair was on fire and her arms were gone, replaced by blades dripping with gore...
‘Stop!’ Hedone sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. ‘Please, please stop.’ She took the biggest breaths she could manage. ‘Come on, Hedone,’ she pleaded with herself aloud. ‘Come on. You came here for a reason. He might need you.’ She clung to the thought of Hercules smiling and laughing, holding her tight, showering her face with kisses. Her hands began to shake less as she pressed them against her face. ‘He might need you,’ she repeated, willing the tears to stop rolling down her cheeks. She pictured the house she had decided they would live in, the gardens they would walk in, the pool they would swim in together.
Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face and searched for him. She couldn’t look anywhere near the beast in front of the gates – just a glimpse of it was enough to overwhelm her and make her limbs stop working altogether – but she could see the centaur firing arrows in its direction, and Phyleus using a slingshot beside her. But the second she saw Hercules and Lyssa, she forgot anything else in the cavern existed.
They were moving fast, almost too fast to follow, punches and kicks flying at one another, each landed blow sending the other staggering. Hercules’s face was twisted in an unnatural smile, as though he was enjoying the challenge. Lyssa’s was a mask of hatred, and Hedone was sure she could see power in her eyes that had never been there before.
She forced herself to concentrate, to watch the fight, the suffocating fear of the cavern receding slightly as she focused on something else. But as she watched, a new, less irrational fear began to seep in. Lyssa was strong. And fast. When had that happened? There had been no question that Hercules was the strongest human in Olympus, so how was his daughter now able to match his every blow? Was it just the strength of her hatred for him? A flash of uncertainty shot through , Ladon’s words ringing in her mind. Why did his daughter hate him so much? Because he was an evil, cruel man, who had killed her family. He had hurt Evadne. He didn’t help those in need. His temper was lethal. She couldn’t help the thoughts zipping through her head, facts that for a split second she knew beyond doubt were true. Horror rose inside her as Hercules’s voice rang through the cavern.
‘You will watch them all die, Lyssa, one by one!’
He is a killer. A murderer. A monster.
Then a wave of pain crashed through her head, so bad that nausea almost overcame her, and she gasped for breath. He needed her help. Hercules needed her help. He was a tool of the gods, misunderstood. The memory of his gentle hands on her face replaced the already-receding doubts, the memory of long conversations about their future overriding his words of war. Lyssa had somehow become stronger and now it was time to prove to her love that she could help him.
Steeling herself, Hedone grabbed the pack that she’d dropped from her back, and with shaking hands, untied the opening. Hercules had rolled his eyes with a small smile when he’d seen the bag, thinking it contained medical supplies. But she hadn’t brought bandages and ambrosia like she’d told him. She’d brought Hippolyta’s belt.
17
Lyssa jerked her head back out of Hercules’s reach just in time to avoid his fist, ducking as she grabbed the front of his lion skin. She brought her own fist up, as hard as she could, relishing the crunch as it connected with the underside of his jaw, then pushing herself backwards, out of his reach. She expected him to come straight after her, but he stood his ground and let out a long, maniacal laugh.
‘Little Lyssa has been training!’ he said, his voice too high-pitched. His eyes were wild, and he spat blood onto the dark ground.
‘No, Hercules. I’m just stronger than you now.’ She knew the words were true as she said them. It was no longer just Rage pouring through her muscles, giving her strength. She had new speed, agility, a capacity to react to his movements earlier than she had
been able to before. It was the ship’s power, and it felt like the Alastor, ducking weaving and soaring through the skies. ‘Are you scared, Hercules?’ she shouted, dancing on her toes as they faced each other, energy coursing through her.
‘Of you? Stupid little brat. I should have chased after you the night I killed your mother,’ he snarled.
‘You should have died the night you killed my mother, you fucking murderer!’ she roared back, unable to control the flare of temper as she powered towards him. He kicked out as she reached him, his huge leg too big for her to dodge completely, and he caught her on the hip as she swerved. Pain blasted through her torso and she snarled as she rounded on him again. But he was too fast, and she felt his grip on her neck as she threw herself against his chest, trying to use her weight to knock him off balance. He stood firm, though, and she began to pummel his hand with both of hers as he lifted her off the ground slowly.
‘Look at me, daughter,’ he hissed, and she glared into his grey eyes, hatred swelling inside her as his fingers tightened around her neck. ‘You know as well as I do, you’re a killer. It’s in your blood. You love the power.’ She lifted her legs beneath her slowly, trying not to listen to his words. They may be true. There may be a killer deep inside her, just as her father’s blood ran in her veins. But the only man she would ever kill would be him.
‘I told you never to call me that!’ she yelled, and swung her legs forward at the same time as punching out at his face with the flat of her hand. Her palm didn’t reach his face, but her legs connected, hard enough for his grip to loosen. She grabbed his arm, solid muscle beneath her fingers, and pulled herself up, throwing her legs over his shoulder and feeling her stomach muscles wrench as she did so. A wave of fatigue swept through her and she snarled, forcing thoughts of her crew into her mind as she rolled herself up onto Hercules’s back. A fresh surge of strength replaced the fatigue instantly, as he began to thrash, trying to shake her off. She got her arms around his neck, and began to squeeze, and he slowed in her grasp, throwing punches back at her that sailed harmlessly over her ducked head. She wrapped her knees around his broad back, clinging on. This had to end now.
‘You wait, Lyssa,’ he rasped, stumbling as he flailed his arms, his bulk making it impossible for him to reach her slight form. ‘You’ll enjoy squeezing the life from a body. You’ll see.’ His words almost made her loosen her grip in horror at the thought, but then she remembered who he was, and why she was doing this, and she squeezed harder. He clawed at her knees and she squirmed away, still keeping both arms tight around his neck.
‘You won’t hurt anyone else, Hercules. I don’t care what it costs me, you won’t hurt anyone else.’
The mighty Hercules dropped to his knees, the impact almost her knocking her off his back, but her feet scrabbled for purchase on the ground and she was able to tighten her hold even more. A wave of red crossed her vision as she felt him start to go limp in her arms, his fists no longer beating back at her. This really was it, she realised, bile rising in her throat. She was about to kill her own father.
Something solid hit her side and before she knew what happening, Lyssa was thrown from Hercules’s back, soaring through the air towards the wall. She smashed into it, her spine making an awful crunching sound as she hit, then slid down to the ground. Black spots exploded into her vision, and she dimly heard Phyleus shouting. What had happened?
She forced herself to her knees, fighting nausea as pain swelled through her ribs. Looking up, she blinked, not sure of what she was seeing. Hedone was pulling Hercules to his feet, his face purple in the flickering orange light. And over her long black toga, she was wearing Hippolyta’s great belt. She almost glowed with power, and for a brief moment Lyssa wanted to go and worship at her feet. She was utterly magnificent.
‘Lyssa!’
She blinked again, and then Phyleus was next to her, one arm around her and the other trying to pull her to her feet. More pain lanced through her body and she cried out.
‘You’re hurt,’ he said, panicked.
‘I think it’s just some broken ribs,’ she gasped.
‘Captain, he’s going for Cerberus!’ Eryx’s bellow rang through the cavern, and Lyssa looked towards the gates. Hercules was sprinting towards the guard-dog.
18
Eryx yelled as Asterion abandoned their fight, running after his captain. He was about to take off after them when Hedone’s voice halted him in his tracks.
‘You don’t want to do that, Eryx. Why don’t you just stand there and watch, like a good boy?’ Her husky voice rippled over him, and a surge of desire overrode his battle-fuelled adrenaline. He could just watch. After all, he’d do anything to make Hedone happy, he thought, as she strode in front of him, smiling. Just look at her... She was perfect. ‘Besides, Hercules has the lion skin. None of you could get close to that big flaming brute,’ she purred. She was right, thought Eryx, relaxing. There was no need to do anything. They couldn’t kill the dog anyway.
He watched as Asterion charged back and forth in front of the three heads, distracting them all, and Hercules crept around behind Cerberus. The guard-dog howled, and the sound cut through Eryx’s haze of contentment. His eyes focused sharply.
‘Evadne?’ He turned to look for her, but Hedone coughed and he spun straight back to face her.
‘Just watch,’ she said. He obediently went back to watching Asterion, and frowned as one of the monster’s dripping jaws caught his left leg. The minotaur wailed. Cerberus flicked his head, tossing Asterion high into the air, and Eryx watched as all three heads jerked up, snapping at the falling body. His face screwed up involuntarily as the furry flesh ripped, then each flaming jaw began shredding their own chunk of minotaur to bits on the ground in front of them.
A hail of arrows began raining down on Cerberus then, and Eryx swivelled his head around to see Nestor firing shot after shot at the dog. But he didn’t even seem to notice them land as he chewed on his prey, and Eryx was sure the arrows were burning up before they even reached his bulging body. He couldn’t just watch, he realised hazily. He was supposed to be doing something.
‘Nestor, over here!’ he shouted, and Hedone whirled back around to face him, frowning.
‘Now, now, I thought I told you to watch quietly?’
Regret at upsetting her suddenly consumed him, and he dropped to his knees.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he said, looking up at her as she sauntered closer to him.
‘I should hope so. How will I reward you if you don’t—’ Her words were cut off and she gave a shriek of pain as an arrow thumped into her thigh.
Clarity crashed back down over Eryx. In an instant he sprang back to his feet and ran towards Lyssa.
‘Why aren’t you stopping him?’ he shouted as he reached her.
‘I can’t run,’ wheezed Lyssa, her face pale.
‘Where’s the bow?’ asked Phyleus urgently. ‘The one Tenebrae gave you.’
Lyssa paused as she surveyed the cavern. Hercules had climbed up onto the dog’s back, flames licking around the lion-skin cloak.
Panic, hatred and fear rose up in Eryx. ‘We have to stop him!’
‘It’s over there,’ Lyssa said, pointing.
‘We need to get it,’ Phyleus said, and pulled Lyssa, wincing, to her feet. ‘We’re almost out of time.’
‘Captain!’ Evadne shouted, running up to them, out of breath. ‘You need to use this!’ She held out an arrow, its end shining blue. Lyssa looked at her, confusion written on her face. ‘Please, trust me, it’s our last chance.’
‘Captain, he’s going to win,’ roared Nestor, galloping towards them.
‘Let me get on your back, Nestor,’ Lyssa responded after a second’s hesitation, and grabbed the arrow from Evadne’s hand.
‘Don’t let any of the blue stuff touch you!’ Evadne said desperately, as the centaur skidded to a stop and Phyleus helped Lyssa swing herself up.
‘We’re going to be too late, Captain,’ said Nesto
r as they whirled back towards Cerberus. Hercules had both arms wrapped around the creature’s thrashing central neck now, the other two heads snapping at him as he clung on.
‘Shoot Hercules, not Cerberus!’ Evadne yelled after them, as Nestor began to thunder across the cavern.
19
Lyssa gasped in pain as they galloped towards the glowing bow where it lay on the floor of the cavern. Nestor barely slowed when they reached it, flicking at it with her front hoof so that it flew up from the ground. Lyssa reached out, snatching it from the air, her ribs screaming in protest. She drew the bow back, resting the arrow carefully against her front hand as Nestor raced towards Hercules. She took aim, trying to keep herself as steady as she could, when she saw that the lights in the eyes of Cerberus’s middle head were dimming.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, we can’t be too late.’ The eyes in the other two heads began dimming too, and dread took hold of Lyssa. Hercules was killing Cerberus. Hercules was going to win. He was going to be immortal. She saw him claw his way up the creature’s neck as it began to collapse, raising himself so that his triumphant face could be seen over the dying flames. ‘No!’ she screamed, and loosed the arrow, straight at his face.
The lights in Cerberus’s eyes went out seconds before the arrow tore into Hercules’s neck. The look of triumph on his face as he threw back the hood of his lion skin morphed suddenly, and pain was etched across his features for a moment, until he ripped the arrow out, throwing it to the ground with a clatter and raising his arms high in the air. Blood gushed from the wound, but time seemed to slow down as Lyssa watched it turn from deep scarlet to shining gold. Ichor. He’d done it. The trickle ebbed away to nothing, and Hercules let out a roaring bellow.
