by Eliza Raine
‘Having lots of money buys you friends,’ he said, and walked to the railing and peered over it, careful not to lean out far. ‘How far down will they fall?’ he asked.
She sighed and faced the sky, leaning her arms on the railing next to him. The clouds were lighter now, and the sparkling dust only drifted around in thin wisps.
‘Not that it matters, as they’re already dead, but we’re about a league and a half high now. In another hour we’ll be level with Libra, and you can go and buy some friends there.’ She heard the hauler door open and glanced towards the front of the ship. Epizon and Len stepped out onto the deck, and she smiled at Len’s attempt to keep up with Epizon’s giant strides as they crossed the deck.
She was about to call out to them when blinding white light filled her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut instinctively and flung her arms across her face to further shield them as Phyleus cried out in surprise.
‘What’s going on?’ he shouted.
There was only one thing Lyssa knew of in Olympus that caused blinding white light. The arrival of one of the twelve gods. But that couldn’t be it, surely. Why would a god visit her ship?
She cautiously dropped her arms and opened her eyes, heart racing. She gasped, then dropped to her knees.
‘Athena,’ she breathed, fear and excitement warring within her. What was Athena doing on the Alastor?
‘You may stand,’ the goddess said. Her voice was crisp and deep and almost musical.
Lyssa immediately did as she was told, gazing in awe at the goddess of wisdom. She was wearing a white traditional toga with a purple sash running from shoulder to waist, and she had her long blonde hair braided around her head like a wreath. Pale grey eyes, fierce with intelligence, scanned the deck of the ship. They skimmed over the rest of the crew kneeling on the wooden planks and came to rest on Lyssa. Lyssa stared back, for once at a loss for words.
‘Captain Lyssa of the Alastor,’ Athena said. Lyssa nodded dumbly. ‘I’m afraid I need you to change course. You must head for the Olympian Void.’
‘Of course, Athena,’ Lyssa answered automatically.
‘Are you not going to ask me why?’ Athena said after a pause, her eyebrows raised. ‘I thought you would be more difficult to persuade.’ A small smile played on Athena’s lips.
Lyssa blinked at her. Sense, and apprehension, began to trickle through the awe that had taken over her tongue. ‘How do you know who I am?’ she said slowly.
‘I know all about you. I have followed you for years. Since you escaped your father and found freedom on this ship.’ She gestured at the sails dancing with light. Lyssa’s breath caught and her chest tightened.
‘Why are you here? Why must we go to the Void?’ The awe left Lyssa’s voice, replaced with wariness.
‘The gods have become bored.’ Annoyance flickered across the goddess’s pristine face. ‘And when the gods get bored, mortals usually suffer. It has been agreed that we will bend one of our most sacred rules.’ Athena’s cool grey eyes were fixed on Lyssa’s. ‘We are going to grant mortals immortality.’
Lyssa gaped, wide-eyed, back at the goddess. ‘I thought the gods weren’t able to make people immortal,’ she breathed.
‘The gods are able to do anything they like,’ Athena answered sharply. ‘We choose not to do some things for prosperity. The gods tire of the same company quickly. If we all went around making our favourites immortal, it would only take a few millennia for there to be no mortals left.’ Athena sighed. ‘They have such short attention spans, my brethren gods.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’ Lyssa asked as thoughts raced around her head. An eternal life? What would that be like?
‘In a way, yes. Mortals need to earn this prize, Captain Lyssa. Each of the twelve gods has devised a Trial in their own realm that will kill all but the strongest of heroes. And each god is putting forward a hero to take part. Zeus has made his decision, and it is a bad choice indeed. He has chosen your father.’
Nausea rolled through Lyssa. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, he can’t become immortal.’ The image of her father knelt over her mother’s bloody body, suppressed so well for years, sharpened in her mind.
‘I agree. He is a cruel man.’ Athena’s face softened slightly as she spoke. ‘I regret that the gods did not punish him for what he did to your family.’
Rage leapt inside Lyssa, and she opened her mouth to speak. The softness vanished from the goddess’s face, and power rolled over Lyssa like a physical wave. It was power she could only dream of, and the angry words died on her lips. She stared back into Athena’s now-cold glare.
‘Do not forget yourself. I may be more sympathetic to you mortals than the others, but I will not tolerate lack of respect.’
Lyssa bowed her head and gritted her teeth. ‘Of course, Athena,’ she said. ‘Forgive me. I just—’
‘You are my choice of hero for the Trials.’ Lyssa’s head snapped back up, her eyes wide. ‘I believe you are the only person who can stop him from winning.’
‘Please, no,’ stammered Lyssa before she could help herself. ‘You can’t—’ This time the wave of power hit her so hard she stumbled backwards.
‘You will be at the Void for the Trials ceremony at sunrise tomorrow, Captain Lyssa. You, your crew and this ship will be the strongest weapon against him.’
Before Lyssa could say another word, the goddess had vanished. She stared at the spot Athena had just stood in, her body vibrating with anger and fear. She was supposed to be free. She had beaten her past and made herself a future. How could she go back and face him? Immortality. The word rang through her mind. How could she not face him? The thought of that monster having limitless time to impose his cruelty on the world sent a shudder through her.
She stepped away from the railings, towards Epizon. He was on his feet and moving towards her, his heavy boots the only sound on the deck.
‘You can do this,’ he said as she reached him, and his deep voice soothed her.
She looked up at him, the only member of her crew who she would ever let see the fear in her eyes. ‘Why? Why do I have to do it? I already beat him!’ Her voice rose and heat prickled across her skin.
‘Athena has chosen you for a reason. We’ll beat him again.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘You won’t be alone this time, Lyssa.’
‘Immortality? Did she say immortality?’
Lyssa started at Phyleus’s voice. She stepped away from Epizon and glared at Phyleus as he padded barefoot and cautiously across the deck towards her.
‘Wait a minute.’ He put his hands out. ‘Are you the Lyssa? As in Lyssa, daughter of Hercules?’ He stared at her.
She folded her arms and took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging emotions threatening to overcome her. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually.
‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Phyleus said, something like excitement on his face. ‘Although,’ his face softened, ‘I am sorry about your family. I remember hearing about it years ago.’
Lyssa swallowed hard and closed her eyes. The thought of others gossiping about her brutal past made her feel sick. The last thing she needed now was to lose her temper. She needed to think. ‘Get off my ship, Phyleus. I don’t care how; just get off my ship.’
‘Are you going to compete in these Trials?’ he asked, ignoring her command.
She opened her eyes and unfolded her arms. ‘My father murdered my mother and brother, and instead of being punished, he became famous.’ Lyssa fixed her eyes on Phyleus’s. ‘He claimed Hera made him do it out of jealousy, and those monsters believed him, or found him interesting enough to pretend to.’ She advanced on him as she spoke. He didn’t move. Roiling heat burned through her. ‘Every year, he gets more power, more fame, more wealth. The more publicly cruel he is, the more he gains. He is utterly remorseless.’ Her voice became a hiss, and her face was only inches from his. ‘Bored gods have turned my father into the most dangerous fucking man Olympus knows. Can you imagine if he became immortal?’
Phyleus shook
his head, his face pale.
‘She’s going to compete and she’s going to win,’ said Epizon quietly, stepping towards them. ‘Captain.’
She glared fiercely at Phyleus a second more, then hissed and spun on her heel. She flexed her fists as she marched towards the front of the ship, gripping the railings hard when she got there. She stared out at the swirling clouds, oranges blending into soft reds and pinks as they melted together. She tightened her grip on the solid wood of the Alastor and drew as much reassurance as she could from its sturdiness. She wasn’t the girl who could do nothing but watch as Hercules killed her mother and brother. She wasn’t the girl who ran, taking as many silver drachmas as she could carry. She was a woman who would stand and fight, a woman with a ship and power. It was time to stop running. It didn’t matter what the rest of Olympus made of it. All that mattered was that she stopped Hercules becoming immortal.
4
‘Aphrodite, please, you have to help me!’
The goddess of love narrowed her eyes at Hedone, dropping the apple she was holding back into the golden dish at her side with a quiet clink.
‘I have to do nothing. I don’t care if you are the daughter of a god; never presume to tell me what to do.’ Power rang through her calm voice, and Hedone bowed her head. Anger didn’t make Aphrodite any easier to look at. Today her skin glowed pale under masses of rich dark hair. Her eyes were almost black, and her lips a deep red. She made Hedone’s own dark hair and eyes look dull and boring. ‘I don’t understand why you need my help, anyway. You are the demigoddess of pleasure. What in Olympus can you not achieve yourself?’
‘Theseus doesn’t want me. I’ve tried everything I know to try, but he is not tempted by my flesh or my seductions. I do not have the power to make mortals fall in love. But you do.’ Hedone looked up hopefully. Aphrodite straightened in her golden throne. Hedone stayed kneeling on the white marble floor, trying to ignore the ache in her knees.
‘Has Theseus selected you for his crew in the Trials?’
‘Yes, Aphrodite.’
‘Then he wants you to become immortal with him if you win?’
‘Yes, Aphrodite.’
‘But he doesn’t love you?’
Hearing someone else say it out loud like that was like a punch to her gut. ‘No, Aphrodite,’ she whispered.
‘Hmm.’ The goddess picked up the apple again and tossed it between her beautifully manicured hands. Hedone held her breath, hoping. ‘Hedone, do you know how many times we’ve tried to create the perfect Olympus?’
Hedone shook her head.
‘No? Nor do I. I’ve lost count now.’ She took a bite from the apple, her full lips mesmerising as she did so. She chewed slowly, her gaze unfocused for a moment. ‘The last one was the most interesting. We let them do whatever they liked. Full freedom. They began to create new things with Zeus’s electricity and Hephaestus’s metals.’ She looked at Hedone again. Her eyes were fierce compared to her soft voice. Hedone gulped, trying not to let her nerves show. ‘Things that allowed them to leave Olympus. Can you imagine? Obviously, we couldn’t let that continue. Athena begged us not to destroy them all and start again, but Zeus’s word is final.’
Worry began working its way through Hedone’s hopefulness. Why was Aphrodite telling her all this? She knew of rumours saying as much, but she couldn’t see what it had to do with what she was asking for.
‘The trouble is, dear girl, every time you mortals do something interesting, it usually signals your end.’ She took another bite from the apple.
‘I don’t understand,’ Hedone mumbled. ‘Do you mean the Trials?’
‘Partly, yes. I am bored. So very, very bored. We have all these restrictions now in Olympus; we control everything. It’s boring. But now we have the Trials.’ She leaned forward in her throne, a smile starting to tug at her sensuous mouth. ‘I like moral Theseus well enough; he has been an asset to my realm. But if we are to make new immortals, I would much rather share eternity with somebody more …’ She waved her empty hand in the air as she looked for the right word. ‘Interesting. In fact, I think we can make this whole competition more interesting.’ Her eyes flashed as she smiled properly. ‘I think I will grant your request for love.’
Hedone took a sharp breath in, her concern dropping away in an instant. ‘You will?’ A wide smile stretched across her youthful face.
‘Oh yes. But not with Theseus.’
Hedone’s smile vanished. Her blood suddenly felt like ice in her veins. ‘No,’ she whispered, fear engulfing her.
Aphrodite gave her a cruel smile. ‘Don’t be sad, darling. You won’t be pining over Theseus any more, and that’s what you wanted. In fact, you won’t even remember you ever loved him.’
Tears flooded Hedone’s eyes as the horror of what Aphrodite was saying sank in.
The goddess’s own eyes sparkled. ‘Let’s spice things up a little, shall we?’
MEGARA:
Husband, spare my life, I beg you. I am Megara. This is your son. He has your looks. See how he comes to you.
HERCULES:
This is not my son. It is the son of my enemy. Before his own mother, let this little monster die.
MEGARA:
You will shed your own blood? You are a madman.
HERCULES’S FATHER, AMPHITRYON:
Stricken with terror of his father’s blazing eyes, the child died before he ever felt the blow, fear snatching his life away. Hercules now raised his heavy club against his wife and crushed her bones, her head removed from her mangled body completely.
EXCERPT FROM
Hercules Furens by Seneca
Written 421–416 BC
Paraphrased by Eliza Raine
5
Lyssa looked down at herself with a frown. When Athena had told her she had to attend a ceremony at the Void, she had assumed the over-the-top fanfare would be reserved for the gods. She was wrong. The whole ceremony was being shown on Hermes flame dishes, and everyone in Olympus had a flame dish. They were shallow iron bowls a few feet across that held oil that permanently burned with gentle orange flames. The gods, and those wealthy enough, were able to replace the flames in the dishes with any images they liked, and this ceremony would be quite a spectacle.
Lyssa was wearing what she always wore, black laced-up boots over black trousers, a white shirt with short sleeves and her thick black belt with holster. The holster was empty though. She would have liked the comfort of her slingshot, but she had been told that when she was presented to the crowds outside as a hero of the Trials, she must be unarmed. She’d tried to protest to the harried people organising the ceremony that there were twelve gods out there and that her little weapon could hardly matter, but they had ignored her, fussing over her curly red hair. Normally, she just tied a red scarf around the tangled mess so it stayed out of her eyes, but she had been forced to sit in a tiny room for an hour whilst an equally unfortunate lady had tried to drag a comb through it. By the time she’d finished, her hair was twice the size it usually was. The lady retied the scarf across the top of her head so her hair was pulled back from her face but still tumbled over her shoulders at the back. Lyssa scowled at everyone who commented on it and refused to admit to the poor woman that she actually quite liked it.
Now she was standing in the tiny room alone, waiting for somebody to tell her where to go next. She hated waiting and was fidgeting nervously, frustrated that there wasn’t enough room to pace back and forth like she could on her ship. Lyssa wasn’t exactly shy, but she’d never been exposed like this before. Being notorious wasn’t exactly good for business when you were a smuggler. The only time she had ever experienced any sort of fame was six years ago, when Hercules had accused Hera of forcing him to kill his wife and child.
Cold tendrils of hatred curled around her insides, and her muscles constricted. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him, she chanted in her head. She’d had years of practice at blocking out thoughts she didn’t want. Today was just the same. Except
, she knew it wasn’t. She was going to see him, today, for the first time since she’d fled. She’d seen his face often enough, on the flame dishes or depicted on Zeus’s realm, Leo, where he had so much influence. But she hadn’t seen him in the flesh since that terrible night.
She flexed her fists and took a deep breath. I am no longer the girl who ran. She repeated the mantra until a new blonde woman dressed in an immaculate deep-blue floor-length dress came into the cluttered little room, without knocking.
‘You could have done with more make-up,’ she said, moving uncomfortably close to Lyssa and peering at her.
Lyssa scowled and shuffled as far backwards as she could, stumbling over piles of clothes on the floor behind her. The woman pursed her lips and straightened up. ‘Well, you are the only woman out there today.’
A shout made Lyssa shake her head in surprise.
‘The Alastor! Where in Zeus’s name is the Alastor? The others are going on!’
She looked at the open door, and the woman grabbed her wrist and started dragging her from the little room. She half ran down a narrow stone corridor, and Lyssa reluctantly jogged to keep up, the shouting voice increasing in volume.
The corridor opened out onto a spacious area that was almost empty. The room felt so big because the ceiling was so high, and what she had first thought was a wall opposite her was actually a series of giant royal-blue curtains that stretched up and up. She guessed the curtains opened onto the stage. A red-faced human man pounced on them.
‘Alastor?’ he shouted.
‘I’m Lyssa, yes,’ she stammered.
His face clouded over with a look of disappointment, and her scowl returned.
‘Well, don’t just stand here, get out there!’ the man said, and gave her a shove towards the curtains.
Another shiver of nerves rippled down her, and she scolded herself mentally. She drew herself up to her full, if still short, height and stepped through the gap in the curtains being held open for her. She blinked in the bright light and sucked in a breath as she tried to take everything in.
