by Eliza Raine
Unable to resist a chance to show off, the gods had decided to hold the ceremony on a giant marble platform floating over the centre of the Olympian Void. The Void was a huge black tear in the otherwise vivid skies of Olympus, and anything that got sucked into it was lost forever. The only reason it existed was so that the gods could demonstrate the limitless extent of their power. They could create and destroy anything. The fact that they could also sling anything that displeased them into it was a happy bonus.
White clouds drifted above them, crackling with sparkling purple energy and giving off a bright, warm light. They were the same lightning-filled clouds that surrounded Zeus’s sky realm, Leo. Their stark whiteness was emphasised by the fierce purples and blues swirling beyond them in the skies. They were a long way above Olympus here, and the skies glittered everywhere she looked.
The platform had buildings at both ends, and each was in the ancient temple style, with huge white fluted stone columns holding up a triangular roof. The one she had just emerged from had deep-blue curtains hanging across the entrance that opened out onto the large marble stage area she was now stood on. Steps ran down from all three sides of the stage to the platform. The temple at the other end of the platform, opposite her, was a mirror image but had blood-red curtains, and the stage area held twelve great white stone thrones. They were empty.
She could see an ocean of creatures between the steps of the two temples. Humans, centaurs, satyrs, harpies, giants, Cyclopes; all manner of Olympian citizens had turned out for the ceremony. They were currently all facing in her direction, cheering and shouting and waving flags and banners.
A looming figure blocked some of the light to her left, and she looked slowly around, concentrating on stopping her mounting apprehension from showing on her face. The giant stood next to her was so tall, and the light so bright, that she could not see his face. He was standing very still though, and she wondered if he was as uncomfortable as she was. She could see nothing around his huge form, and there was nobody to her right, just steps leading down from the stage.
‘Citizens of Olympus!’ a voice boomed out of nowhere. Lyssa jumped, her heart racing at the shock. She wasn’t the only one; many in the crowd visibly jumped, and a few cried out in surprise. Lyssa hoped no one had noticed her reaction. The giant had maintained his stock-still composure. Embarrassed laughs and chatter died out as the crowd slowly began to turn to face the direction of the red temple. Tension and excitement hummed through the air, and the slow hush became a silence as the last few turned to face the other way.
‘Consider yourself honoured and humbled in the presence of your gods!’ the voice roared, and the red curtains lifted.
Lyssa’s gasp was lost in thousands of others. Her gaze was too fixed on the red temple to notice the giant finally shift next to her.
The twelve gods of Olympus stepped out of the shadow of the temple entrance and moved to their thrones on the stage. The awed silence broke as one centaur started clapping. Within seconds the applause was deafening.
Lyssa slowly clapped along with them, trying hard to squash the awe and concentrate on the details. It wasn’t easy. Until Athena had appeared on the Alastor the day before, Lyssa had never seen a god in real life. They were on the flame dishes all the time, so the faces they wore were familiar, but actually being this close to them felt very strange. A compulsion to kneel and wave and bow and smile washed over her. She tried to concentrate harder.
Zeus was in the middle, with Hera on his right. His bearded, handsome face was the most recognisable, given that he was king of the gods. Hera stood out next to him, her dark skin and black hair contrasting with the glittering teal and blue jewels she wore. On Hera’s left was Poseidon, distinguishable by his long silver hair and beard. Next to him was Aphrodite. She was harder to recognise, as she changed her appearance regularly, but her beauty surpassed the others at any distance. Today she had dusty-pink hair flowing to her feet, merging seamlessly with her flowing dress, and warm brown skin. She was one of the few gods smiling. Lyssa assumed the stooped, broad, dark-haired god wearing a leather tabard at her side was her husband, Hephaestus. She had never seen him before, and she tried to study his scowling face and oil-covered clothes. On his right, in the last two thrones, were the twins Artemis and Apollo. Artemis was smaller than the other figures, lithe and young-looking, with blonde hair in thin braids. Apollo was as blonde as his sister but looked even more youthful, possibly due to his broad smile and regular waves to the crowd.
Back near the middle, on Zeus’s left, was Athena. She was dressed the same as she was when she had visited the Alastor, her long braid wrapped neatly around her head like a crown. The sight of Athena reminded Lyssa why she was there, and gave her a much-needed feeling of grounding. Next to Athena was Ares. He was the largest of the gods, larger even than Zeus, rippling with muscles. He wore an ancient-style plumed helmet that covered his face. As far as she knew, his face had never been seen by mortals. To his left was Dionysus. He was the antithesis of Ares’s solid seriousness, smiling and waving, slouched in his chair. By a long way, he looked the most normal of the gods, wearing human-style clothes and sporting a mop of messy dark hair. Hermes was next to him, looking restless and bored. He had red hair and a red beard, and Lyssa’s eyes were drawn to his famous winged boots.
Last in the row, but to Lyssa, by far the most interesting, was Hades. This was a god whose realm, Virgo, was hidden in the core of Olympus and almost impossible to get to. Many images of Hades were in circulation, but even those who lived on Virgo did not know which were accurate. It could be all of them or none of them. And today would not be the day Olympus found out. The being in the last throne was a swirling mass of black smoke. The smoke was humanoid in shape, but it never settled long enough to give any indication of features. Lyssa’s muscles tensed and her breathing tightened as she stared. She suddenly felt like only he and she were there. The smoke head lifted slightly.
‘Your gods!’ the commentator boomed, and she blinked away the feeling, trying to look anywhere else. ‘You are here today to witness something never seen before in Olympus! The gods have chosen to bless us with an opportunity never before possible!’ The crowd cheered and whooped. ‘Of the twelve heroes before you, only four will have the chance to take on the deadly Trials. Today we find out who’s going to get a chance at immortality!’
Lyssa’s face creased into a frown, and fervent chattering rippled through the crowd. Only four heroes? Relief rolled over her, and her tense stance sagged. She was a nobody. There was no way she would be chosen over the others. Even as she thought this, a twinge of regret pulled at her. She’d almost had a chance to become immortal. A chance to fly the skies forever.
A stab of pride followed the regret. Athena had said she was the only one who could stop Hercules. What if he was chosen as one of the four? I am no longer the girl who ran. The thought, repeated so often in the last day, forced its way through the others. This was her chance. She needed to be chosen. Not just to save Olympus from Hercules’s unending cruelty, but to face the man who had destroyed everything she had loved. Perhaps even kill him. A shudder rippled through her, and she stood straight again. Her hands balled into fists. She was no longer the girl who ran. She would stand, and fight, and avenge her family. She had to be chosen.
6
‘Your first hero, son of Zeus, captain of the Hybris, the mighty Hercules!’ roared the commentator.
For a second Lyssa was sure her heart stopped beating. Her stomach lurched, and she thought she might be sick as the crowd began to scream as they swung back to face the blue temple. Hercules stepped out into view, waving. Images of her mother and brother flashed through her mind. How could they cheer a man capable of what this monster had done? She could only see his back and a little of his profile, but he was still familiar. He was more muscular now, and his beard was longer, in an effort to imitate or impress his own father, she presumed.
He turned and looked down the line towards her. His
smile widened as he made eye contact with her. She glared back into his cold grey eyes. Her skin throbbed as the feeling of fire began to roll across it, and she could hear clanging in her ears. Power and adrenaline rushed through her, the Rage building in every muscle. He opened his mouth, and his smile widened further. He was laughing at her, she realised. Dark spots appeared in the corners of her eyes, and she could see nothing but his face.
‘Your second hero, son of Poseidon, captain of the Virtus, the witty Theseus!’
The boom of the commentator’s voice caused her to break eye contact with Hercules. A long breath escaped her, and her vision began to clear a little. She clenched her teeth and flexed her hands repeatedly into fists as Hercules turned back, waved one last time at the crowd, then stepped back out of her sight. She wanted to yell and kick and scream as frustration roiled inside her. She couldn’t lose her temper now. She needed to be chosen. She needed to stop him.
She took long, deep breaths and clenched her sweaty hands as Theseus strode out into view, waving cheerfully to the screaming audience. Blood still pounding in her ears, her muscles tense, Lyssa watched as the beautiful, privileged Theseus laughed easily as the crowd cheered. Her barely contained anger surged. He lived with the favour of Aphrodite, and he had no idea how to live a difficult life; everything had come easily to him. He was outrageously good-looking, blessed with rich brown skin and dark wavy hair that fell messily to his shoulders, interspersed with braids. Warm brown eyes crinkled when his full lips smiled and his easy confidence only increased his appeal.
She tore her eyes from his perfect proportions and looked ahead to where the gods were sat, some clapping lazily and others ignoring the whole thing. She tried to make out any expression on Poseidon’s face, any pride or interest in his son. If there was, she couldn’t see it. He was paying more attention than some of the others, but his demeanour was unreadable.
Theseus stepped back, and Lyssa’s muscles constricted again. She took a deep breath, skin prickling as she waited for the next announcement. She had to be chosen.
‘Your third hero, son of Poseidon, captain of the Orion, the colossal Antaeus!’ rang the voice.
The marble floor shook ever so slightly as the giant to her left took one enormous stride forward. The applause was deafening but couldn’t drown out the rushing in her head. She had one more chance. She glued her eyes to the giant’s back and refused to look to her left, where she knew Hercules stood in the line of other potential heroes.
Antaeus was about ten feet tall, and he was covered in muscle. He was shirtless, and he wore green canvas trousers tucked into huge black boots. She could see his back clearly, and it was covered in tattoos of snakes, all different colours and sizes. She squinted as the snakes all slithered across his skin, their long bodies entwining and curling around each other. She had seen moving tattoos many times but never with such lifelike quality. They were mesmerising.
Then the giant stepped back and turned to his left, nodding his head at the other captains. Then he turned towards her and did the same. She knew most of the crew of the Orion were boxers or wrestlers, so the scars on his face and chest and the clearly previously broken nose were no surprise. The bright blue eyes under heavy black eyebrows were though. There was no doubting he was a son of Poseidon. Dark hair flopped over his forehead as he nodded at her, and she inclined her head jerkily in response.
This was it. The Rage racing around her body was making her dizzy. Her mouth was completely dry, and her fingernails were piercing the skin of her clammy palms. Her muscles were aching with tension. She had to stand and fight. She had to be chosen.
‘Your fourth and last hero, granddaughter of Zeus, captain of the Alastor, the fiery Lyssa!’ bellowed the commentator.
Light flashed behind her eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t see. She took a shaking step forward and blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. Bile rose in her throat as she took another step forward, and she couldn’t hear the crowd at all. She was in the Trials. She would have to face Hercules. She couldn’t run.
‘Enjoy this, Captain Lyssa.’ Athena’s voice cut across the pounding in her head. ‘You are one of their heroes.’
She sought the goddess’s face in the great stone throne across the platform, and instantly the pounding quietened and the flashing light stopped. She found she could breathe easier. She took another step forward. She was no longer the girl who ran. She stood taller. She would win. She raised her arm and waved it awkwardly.
‘Smile,’ said Athena, and she forced a smile onto her face. She thought the crowd got a little louder. She dragged her eyes from Athena and made herself look around at the faces below her. A lot of them were not looking at her, they were looking at the more impressive and famous captains behind her, or still staring in awe at the gods in the opposite direction. But more than half did have their attention on her, and to her surprise, they looked excited and encouraging. Although most of the faces she could see were human, there were more different creatures here than she’d ever seen in one place. She spotted a banner being held by a group of satyrs not far from the bottom of the steps that read ‘Go Alastor’, and she broke out in a real grin.
‘Well done,’ said Athena. ‘Now go back.’
Unexpectedly reluctant, she retraced her steps backwards until she was in the shadow of the giant again.
A hush fell over the crowd, and she realised that they were all facing the gods again. Zeus stood up.
‘Welcome, all.’ His voice was deep and clear and lyrical, even more beautiful to hear than Athena’s was. ‘Each of the twelve gods of Olympus has devised a dangerous and difficult Trial in their own realm. The crew who has won the most of these events at the end of all twelve will be granted immortality.’ He paused, and hundreds of wide-eyed, silent faces stared at him. ‘Eternal life!’ he roared with a laugh, throwing his arms up in the air. ‘What a prize!’ Excitement hummed through the audience. ‘And of course, for a prize so unprecedented, we have had to make sure our Trials are impossible for all but the most special heroes.’ He gestured at Lyssa and her fellow competitors. ‘Most of them will die.’ Antaeus twitched next to her. ‘The captains shall receive the same information at the same time,’ Zeus continued. ‘Only once a Trial has been won will the next one be revealed. Heroes, tonight you will dine together, at a feast in my name. Tomorrow the first Trial will be revealed. Feast now and enjoy what might be your last. If you survive, you will be celebrated. If you win, you will live forever!’
Tumultuous applause erupted from the crowd, and Lyssa hoped his dramatic words had been for their benefit. She had a horrible feeling, though, that they were not.
7
Lyssa was relieved that she and the other guests had been asked to go back to their ships whilst the feast was prepared. The Alastor was one of a hundred or more ships docked together underneath the giant platform. Small longboats were taking passengers back and forth whenever they needed to get between their ships and the platform.
As Lyssa’s longboat sank below the edge of the platform and she saw all the ships hovering together, she felt herself relax a little. Directly underneath the grand elegance of the gods’ temples were the same ships she saw every day. Including her own. The thought was comforting. As the longboat rose level with the deck at the front of her ship, she grabbed the railing and pulled herself over. As soon as her feet hit the deck, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of being in control again, and back on the Alastor.
‘Your hair looks great, Cap.’ Abderos’s voice broke through her moment’s peace.
She groaned and headed across the deck towards the quarterdeck. ‘Everybody on the quarterdeck in five,’ she yelled, projecting the instruction to everyone on the crew.
She needn’t have bothered. When she reached the back of the deck, everyone was already there, and they clapped and cheered when they saw her, Abderos bowing deeply in his wheelchair. Len threw himself to his knees, yelling about not being worthy. F
or a second she tensed, anger flashing instinctively at being mocked, but it drained away almost immediately, and she laughed.
‘Don’t go too overboard. I might get used to this,’ she said, and Len jumped back to his feet, looking alarmed.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked.
‘We all go to dinner later tonight.’ She shrugged and headed towards her chair. ‘The gods won’t be there, just the four crews and a delegation from each realm.’
‘Are there many satyrs?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, and I think they might be backing us,’ she said, and told him about the banner she’d caught sight of.
Len grinned. ‘How about nymphs?’ he asked, his eyes getting a glint that made Lyssa uncomfortable.
‘Probably, there were all sorts out there, but don’t get any ideas about misbehaving.’ She tried to impress this on him with as stern a stare as she could muster, but it didn’t seem a match for his excitement.
‘Do we need to dress formally?’ asked Epizon.
She shrugged. ‘It’s a private event, and I couldn’t care less what you’re wearing. But you need to remember this. I’m not going to pretend we wouldn’t all like to win, but this is going to be the most dangerous thing we’ve ever done. I understand if anyone wants to leave before we start.’ She looked around at all of them in turn. Abderos looked resolute, Len excited, Epizon fierce. Phyleus stood behind them all, his face unreadable. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘We’ll go to Libra to stock up now, and drop you off.’
‘About that,’ he said, and leaned back on the railings. Lyssa rolled her eyes at his attempt to look comfortable on the ship. He’d been terrified just hours before. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
